€\htavy  of ^he  theological  ^tminary 

PRINCETON    .   NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 


The  Library  of 
Professor  Archibald  A.  Hodge 


BV    10    .S53    1845 
Sheppard,    John. 
The   suppliant,    or,    Thoughts 
designed   to   encourage   and 


It*   • 
.1 


1- 


♦  .%^* 


THE 

SUPPLIANT: 

OR, 

THOUGHTS 

DESIGNED   TO    ENCOURAGE   AND   AID 

rRIVATE  DEVOTION. 


->-^ 


REVISED   BY   THE   COMMITTEE    OF   PUBLICATION    OF   THE 
AMERICAN   SUNDAY   SCHOOL   UNION. 


30f)tlatrel|)Ma: 

AMERICAN  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  UNION, 

146  CHESTNUT  STREET. 

1845. 


ExTERED  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1844,  by 
IIkrman  Cope,  Treasurer,  in  trust  for  the  American  Sunday 
Scliool  Union,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


PREFACE. 


This  interesting  and  instructive  volume  is 
(substantially)  a  reprint  of  an  English  work  en- 
titled "  Thoughts  chiefly  designed  as  preparative 
or  persuasive  to  Private  Devotion ;  by  John  Shep- 
pard,'^  &c. — but,  there  are  many  changes  in  the 
construction  and  phraseology  of  sentences  which 
the  author  might  not  be  disposed  to  adopt  or 
sanction,  and  to  which  therefore  we  should  not 
think  it  proper  to  prefix  his  name. 

The  alterations  are,  for  the  most  part,  de- 
signed to  make  the  admirable  views  of  the  au- 
thor more  plain  and  intelligible  to  the  class  of 
readers  into  whose  hands  the  volume,  (with  its 
present  imprint,)  will  be  most  likely  to  fall. 

In  adding  to  the  Society's  catalogue  such  a 
work  as  this,  we  have  been  influenced  chiefly 

by  the  consideration  that  a  right  understanding 

(iii) 


IV  PREFACE. 

of  the  DUTY  OF  PRAYER  is  essGnti'dl  to  any  suc- 
cess or  satisfaction  in  the  service  of  God. 

The  Sunday  School  Teacher  makes  but  httle 
progress  in  his  work,  if  his  devotional  exercises 
are  not  frequent,  fervent  and  eifectual.  And 
when  it  is  remembered  how  large  a  proportion 
of  teachers  are  immature  in  years  and  experi- 
ence, the  necessity  of  helps  and  suggestions  on 
such  an  important  duty  as  prayer,  becomes  very 
obvious. 

An  attentive  study  of  this  volume  will,  we 
are  persuaded,  do  much  to  correct  erroneous 
impressions  respecting  the  nature  and  design  of 
this  exercise,  and  to  excite  every  rightly  dis- 
posed mind  to  a  more  earnest  and  diligent  culti- 
vation of  a  devotional  spirit. 


THOUGHTS 


PRIVATE  DEVOTION 


ON  A  RIGHT  SENSE  OF  THE  DIVINE  GREATNESS. 

"  He  that  cometh  to  God,  must  believe  that  he 
is." — How  indisputable  and  self-evident  a  truth 
is  this,  that  real  worship  implies  a  belief  in  the  ex- 
istence of  its  object.  And  yet  have  not  I  some- 
times addressed  the  Deity  with  such  carelessness 
and  irreverence  of  mind  as  might  well  lead  me  to 
doubt  whether  I  had  any  sense  of  that  adorable 
majesty,  that  infinite  grandeur  which  is  essen- 
tial to  the  Perfect  Being,  the  Maker  and  Up- 
holder of  all  things ;  and,  consequently,  whether 
I  had  any  proper  belief  that  He  is,  and  whether 
my  worship  were  any  thing  more  than  the  result 
of  some  indistinct  apprehension  that  he  may  be  ? 

1  *  (5) 


6  THE    DIVINE    GREATNESS. 

It  is  true,  no  finite,  no  created  mind,  how- 
ever superior  to  the  human,  can  contemplate  or 
worship  the  incomprehensible  God  as  He  is;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  no  mind,  however  feeble  and 
limited,  can  really  think  of  a  Being  who  hath 
"  stretched  forth  the  heavens,"  and  "  established 
the  earth,"  without  a  profound  impression  of  his 
greatness.  If,  therefore,  I  "  come  to  God,  be- 
lieving that  he  is,"  I  must  come  with  a  senti- 
ment of  deep  veneration,  with  a  solemn  sense 
of  his  attributes.  If  this  be  wanting,  my  belief 
in  his  being  must  for  the  time  be  regarded  as  in 
a  state  of  suspension  or  dormancy ;  and  I  come 
not  unto  Him,  but  to  a  sort  of  sign  or  name  ex- 
isting in  my  thought,  but  utterly  inadequate  to 
represent,  even  to  the  lowest  capacity,  Him 
whom  it  signifies.  This  may  admit  of  illustra- 
tion from  the  sublimest  kind  of  idolatry, — the 
worship  of  the  sun.  If  we  could  suppose  a 
worshipper  of  that  luminary  to  acquire  the 
knowledge  of  its  magnitude  and  distance  which 
astronomy  teaches,  and  yet  to  retain  the  belief 
of  its  divinity,  regarding  it  as  the  corporeal  ve- 
hicle of  a  glorious  and  beneficent  spirit,  the 
adoring  wonder  of  this  individual  would  be  ex- 
pected greatly  to  exceed  that  of  persons  who 
had  no  conception  of  the  true  grandeur  of  their 
idol.     But  it  would  exceed,  probably,  just  in  pro- 


THE    DIVINE    GREATNESS.  7 

portion  to  the  degree  in  which  he  actually  con- 
sidered the  matter  of  his  superior  knowledge, 
namely,  the  vast  spaces  through  which  the  solar 
light  and  heat  are  diffused,  the  dimensions  of  the 
sun  itself,  and  the  immensity  of  its  sensible  in- 
fluence; with  the  correspondent  immensity  of 
the  supposed  spirit  dwelling  in  all  its  spheres  and 
in  all  its  emanations. 

Another  worshipper,  destitute  of  astronomical 
knowledge,  but  who  had  been  an  admiring  ob- 
server of  such  facts  and  appearances  as  lie  open 
to  all,  might,  (if  he  were  more  intently  medita- 
ting on  these,)  carry  with  him  to  the  place  and 
hour  of  prayer,  a  deeper  sentiment  of  venera- 
tion.— If  in  vivid  thought  he  pursued  the  seem- 
ing career  of  this  god  of  day  through  the  circuit 
of  heaven ;  if  he  dwelt  on  the  splendour  of  his 
rising,  and  the  mild,  ever-varied  beauties  of  his 
setting ;  if  he  pictured  to  himself  the  expansion 
of  his  cheering  and  fructifying  rays  over  whole 
continents,  and  then  tried  to  form  a  conception  of 
the  multitude  of  living  creatures  awakened  and 
gladdened  daily  by  those  rays,  and  of  the  still 
greater  multitude  of  herbs  and  flowers  opening 
to  their  visitation,  and  imbibing  from  them  hfe 
and  beauty — this  employment  of  mind,  though 
not  accompanied  with  so  accurate  a  knowledge, 
would,  if  more  active  and  intent  than  that  of  the 


O  THE    DIVINE    GREATNESS. 

former,  doubtless,  produce  more  suitable  feel- 
ings. We  may  suppose  both  these  to  be  wor- 
shippers at  midnight,  or  after  the  light  of  their 
imagined  divinity  is  withdrawn,  so  that  their 
sentiments  or  contemplations  cannot  be  imme- 
diately derived  from  outward  perception. 

We  may  conceive  also  a  third  idolater,  who 
at  the  same  hour  having  been  habituated  to 
prayer,  engages  in  it  Hke  the  others,  not  perhaps 
without  some  sincerity  of  desire :  but  not  having 
been  at  all  accustomed  to  the  contemplation  of 
nature,  or  not  feeling  the  importance  of  realising 
the  attributes  of  the  object  adored,  he  has 
no  distinct  thought  concerning  it.  The  only 
idea  of  the  solar  orb  presented  to  his  mind,  is 
either  the  written  name  and  title  of  the  divinity, 
or  the  golden  similitude  of  it  which  decorates 
his  temple.  Although  he  has  an  indistinct  sense 
of  his  own  necessities,  and  some  apprehensiow, 
(still  more  vague,)  of  the  greatness  of  the  object 
worshipped,  little  else  is  really  or  clearly  set 
before  the  mind  than  either  a  mere  arbitrary 
name,  or,  at  most,  the  very  weak  and  petty 
resemblance  which  art  has  formed. 

It  is  true  that  even  the  first  of  those  supposed 
worshippers  does  not  adore  the  sun  as  he  is, 
because  the  bulk  of  that  heavenly  body,  and  its 
distance,  small  as  they  are  in  comparison  with 


THE    DIVINE    GREATNESS.  9 

the  extent  of  creation,  are  far  too  great  for  the 
human  mind  distinctly  to  apprehend;  they  are 
objects  of  calculation,  but  not  properly  objects 
of  conception; — and  the  second,  however  ac- 
tively and  poetically  his  thoughts  may  expatiate, 
cannot  conceive  at  once  any  assignable  portion 
of  the  sun's  unnumbered  influences  on  the  in- 
dividuals of  the  animal  and  vegetable  v^^orld. 
But  still  the  preparation  for  worship  in  the 
minds  of  both  these  persons  will  be  acknow- 
ledged to  be  incomparably  better  than  in  that 
of  the  third.  This  last  can  hardly  be  said  to 
beheve  that  the  sun  exists.  He  believes  in  the 
existence  of  something  so  called;  but  not  in- 
vesting this  object  by  stedfast  contemplation 
with  any  of  its  attributes,  the  belief  seems  to  be 
in  a  sign  rather  than  in  that  which  is  signified. 

Has  not  my  worship  of  the  infinitely  glorious 
Creator,  sometimes,  for  want  of  preparatory 
thoughts  of  his  majesty,  partaken  of  this  char- 
acter?— 

Bethink  thee,  slumberer,  whom  thou  would'st  adore  ! 

Not  that  illustrious  idol ;  but  the  Power 

Wlio  lighteth  up  its  lustre ;  in  whose  grasp 

The  fancied  God  by  sages  idolized 

That  knew  not  half  its  grandeur,  the  vast  orb 

Whose  bright  diameter  a  hundred  earths 

Would  scantly  measure,  is  but  as  a  lamp ; 

One  midst  the  countless  lamps  his  hand  upholds 


10  THE    DIVINE    GREATNESS. 

And  feeds  with  brightness. — From  this  solar  lamp, 

Whose  shining  mass  a  million-fold  exceeds 

Our  "  atom  world,"  yet  by  remoteness  shrinks 

To  a  mere  disk.  He  bids  the  radiance  fall 

On  every  rolling  mountain  of  the  floods, 

On  every  trembling  drop  that  gems  the  plains  ; 

Tinge  with  its  rosy  touch  the  giant  peaks 

Of  the  firm  Andes,  and  the  bending  cup 

Of  the  minutest  flower ;  exhale  at  morn 

The  dews  that  fertilize  a  hemisphere, 

And  dry  some  swift  ephemcron's  folded  wing ; 

Blaze  in  its  torrid  strength  o'er  sandy  zones, 

Yet  cheer  the  living  microscopic  mote 

Which  flutters  in  its  glow. — Thou  worshippest  Him 

Who  fix'd  this  gorgeous  lamp,  but  who  can  quench 

And  spare  its  splendour ;  can  reveal  his  works 

And  bless  them,  were  that  orb  extinct,  and  heaven 

Grown  starless  at  his  word  ;  who,  when  he  made 

Thee,  conscious  spirit,  of  the  Eternal  Mind 

Reflective,  wrought  a  work  more  marvellous. 

More  sumptuous,  than  a  galaxy  of  suns  I 

He  is  the  Sun  of  spirits,  and  his  beams 

Of  all-pervading,  all-awakening  thought, 

Irradiate  every  angel's  intellect, 

Yet  touch  with  gentlest  light  an  infant  soul  I 


oatmPRESENCE    OF    DEITY.  ]  1 


II. 

ON  THE  OMNIPRESENCE  OF  DEITY. 

It  is  an  astonishing  thought,  yet  strictly  de- 
ducible  from  the  being  of  God,  that  He  who 
made  and  sustains  the  universe,  has  an  univer- 
sal and  unceasing  agency;  and  therefore  an 
universal  and  unceasing  presence  with  all  that 
He  hath  made.  To  imagine  a  point  of  space, 
or  instant  of  time,  from  which  the  agency  of 
God  is  excluded,  would  be  to  imagine  some- 
thing independent  of  Him.  It  would  be  to 
think  of  Him  as  finite;  to  limit  his  empire;  and, 
by  denying  his  perfection,  virtually  to  deny  his 
existence.  He  who  efficiently  acts  every- 
where, is  everywhere.  The  Deity  acts  indeed 
by  innumerable  instruments,  or  causes  them  to 
act  mediately,  and  often  reciprocally,  on  each 
other;  but  each  one  of  these  instruments, 
whether  spiritual  or  material,  must  be  kept  in 
existence  by  his  efficient  and  immediate  agency, 
which  implies  his  perpetual  presence.  Angels 
may  fulfil  "his  commandment"  in  the  remotest 
regions  of  the  creation;  but  who  "holdeth  their 


12  OMNIPRESENCE    OF    DEITY. 

soul  in  life  ?*'*  None  assuredly  but  a  present 
God.  The  sacred  Scriptures  fully  announce 
this  truth ;  and  the  apostle  expressed  it  in  terms 
the  most  accurate  as  well  as  sublime,  when  he 
declared  to  the  Athenian  idolaters,  "  In  him  we 
live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being."  It  is  no 
slight  presumption  of  the  divinity  of  the  He- 
brews' religion,  that  this  people,  amidst  the 
gross  and  contracted  notions  of  the  surrounding 
heathen,  and  with  no  sound  human  philosophy 
to  enlarge  their  own,  entertained  the  idea  of  an 
all-comprehending  Godhead.  Not  that  this  idea 
excluded  that  of  a  local  manifestation  of  the 
Deity,  a  place  and  an  appearance  in  which  he 
peculiarly  shows  forth  his  glory.  Without  the 
idea  of  such  a  manifestation,  we  could  scarcely 
conceive  the  personality,  and  still  less  the  pro- 
mised vision,  of  the  Divine  Being.  The  Scri])- 
tures  everywhere  speak  of  a  heavenly  throne, 
a  place  where  the  glorious  and  beatific  presence 
of  the  Deity  is  peculiarly  displayed ;  the  centre, 
if  we  may  speak  so,  of  that  presence  which  is 
universal  and  boundless.  To  this  celestial 
throne,  prayer  is  often  figuratively  considered 
as  being  addressed,  and  there  the  Deity  is,  in 
like  manner,  represented  as  acting.  Thus  Isaiah 
entreats;  "Look  down  from  heaven,  and  behoki 

*  Psalm  kvi.  9. 


OMNIPRESENCE    OF    DEITY'.  13 

from  the  habitation  of  thy  holiness  and  of  thy 
glory;"  and  the  Old  Testament  abounds  with 
similar  language.  It  is  often  used  also  by  our 
Saviour  himself,  who  speaks  in  many  of  his 
discourses  of  God  as  "our  Father  who  is  in 
heaven,"  and  dictates  an  invocation  in  the  same 
form.  But  such  language  could  never  be  de- 
signed to  w^eaken  our  conviction  or  remem- 
brance that  the  intimate  presence  of  Deity  is  as 
real,  as  necessary,  as  perpetual,  in  every  part 
of  the  universe,  as  it  is  on  that  throne  before 
which  angels  bow\  Those  sacred  writers,  who 
used  phrases  the  most  distinctly  indicating  a 
local  residence  of  the  Divine  glory,  were  not 
the  less  strongly  imbued  with  a  solemn  persua- 
sion of  this  Divine  omnipresence.  The  same 
David  w^ho  writes — "  The  Lord  is  in  his  holy 
temple;  the  Lord's  throne  is  in  heaven" — in- 
quires in  one  of  his  noblest  odes,  "Whither 
shall  I  go  from  thy  spirit?  or  whither  shall  I 
Hee  from  thy  presence?"  and  describes  with 
poetic  sublimity  the  attribute  which  is  "too 
wonderful"  for  him.  Solomon,  who  repeatedly 
introduces  this  form  of  supplication,  "Hear 
thou  in  heaven  thy  dwelling  place,"*  acknow- 
ledges at  the  commencement  of  his  petitions, 
"  Behold,  the  heaven  and  heaven  of  heavens 

*  1  Kings  viii.  passim. 


14  OMNIPRESENCE    OP    DEITY. 

cannot  contain  thee."  That  Divme  Teacher, 
who  so  often  reminds  us  of  the  mercies  of  our 
"  Father  who  is  in  heaven,"  enjoins  us  to  pray 
in  the  soHtude  of  the  closet  to  our  "  Father 
who  seeth  in  secret."  No  Divine  attribute  is 
more  readily  or  more  necessarily  admitted  by 
us,  whether  we  consult  reason  or  Scripture, 
than  this  of  omnipresence.  But  is  it  at  the 
same  time  realized,  (we  will  not  say  in  a  degree 
at  all  proportioned  to  its  importance,  but  even) 
in  an  equal  degree  with  the  other  perfections 
which  we  ascribe  to  the  Deity?  From  the 
slight  impression  which  it  frequently  makes, 
one  would  infer  that  it  cannot  be  so.  For 
what  thought  can  be  calculated  to  strike  the 
mind  more  deeply  and  powerfully,  than  that  of 
an  ever-present  God? — And  without  a  lively 
conviction  of  this  truth,  how  greatly  the  force 
of  the  whole  revelation  concerning  the  Divine 
character  is  neutralized!  We  may  acknow- 
ledge the  abstract  justice,  purity,  and  compas- 
sion of  Jehovah,  but  unless  we  really  apprehend 
his  omnipresence,  there  can  be  no  imperative 
check  to  sin,  nor  any  substantial  confidence  in 
devotion.  If  in  the  hour  of  sinful  indulgence, 
or  cold  meditation,  or  listless  worship,  we  could 
awake  from  our  spiritual  slumber,  as  Jacob 
awoke  from  his  bodily  sleep  at  Bethel,  into  the 


OMNIPRESENCE    OF    DEITY.  15 

strong  sense  of  this  momentous  fact — should 
we  not  exclaim  with  as  much  awe  as  he  did, 
•*  Surely  Jehovah  is  in  this  place,  and  I  knew  it 
not ! — This  is  none  other  than  the  house  of  God, 
and  this  is  the  gate  of  heaven !" 

As  yet,  indeed,  we  are  not  summoned  into 
the  central  apartment  of  his  palace,  who  is  the 
"  blessed  and  only  Potentate ;" — we  are  not 
yet  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  the  inner  court  of  the 
temple  of  God  above; — but  his  palace,  his 
temple,  is  the  universe ;  the  worlds  are  our 
"  Father's  house."  We  are  in  the  ante-room, — 
in  the  courts  already.  "  The  King  immortal  and 
invisible,"  "  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us," 
veiled  by  the  symbols  of  his  own  "  eternal 
power  and  Godhead."  We  can  be  in  no  place, 
while  conscious  of  the  existence  of  our  body 
and  mind,  without  being  assured  of  the  uninter- 
rupted continuance  of  the  agency  and  presence 
of  God ;  for  this  body  and  this  mind,  although 
the  whole  fabric  of  nature  were  concealed  from 
us,  would  demonstrate  a  supporting  Deity.  We 
walk  then,  as  it  were,  in  a  sacred  chamber, 
whether  in  the  field  at  eventide,  or  in  the  closet, 
or  in  the  house  of  prayer.  He  who  "  filleth 
heaven  and  earth,"  Jehovah,  the  infinite  Spirit, 
is  with  us,  though  unseen. — And  it  is  a  chamber 
of  audience.     "  The  God  of  the  spirits  of  all 


16  OMNIPRESENCE    OF    DEITY. 

flesh"  is  actually  and  graciously  "  nigh  unto  ail 
that  call  upon  him."  Indeed,  these  are  but 
weak  figures  to  describe  the  nearness  of  Him  in 
whom  "  we  have  our  being,"  who  "  is,"  as  a 
divine  has  expressed  it,  "the  soul  of  our  soul." 
"  We  seem  as  if  alone,"  (he  adds)  "  in  that 
interior  sanctuary,  but  God  is  there  more  in- 
timately than  w^e." 

The  moral  attributes  of  God  being  first  ac- 
knowledged, this  truth  obviously  affords  a  most 
complete  encouragement  to  every  kind  of  wor- 
ship, and  quite  as  much  to  silent  mental  prayer 
as  to  any  other.  Nothing  but  the  belief  of 
God's  real  omnipresence  can  make  it  at  all 
rational  to  conclude,  that  the  loudest  prayers 
or  adorations,  whether  of  individuals  or  of  mul- 
titudes, in  different  places,  are  heard  and  under- 
stood by  Him.  And  the  very  same  belief  is 
alone  necessary,  in  order  to  be  assured,  not 
only  that  he  observes  the  w^hispered  petition, 
the  gesture,  or  the  sigh  which  expresses  thought 
and  desire,  but  even  the  thought  or  desire  itself 
unaccompanied  by  any  sign.  That  would  be  a 
very  low  and  unworthy  conception  of  the 
Divine  nature,  by  which  the  Deity  should  be 
imagined  to  understand  the  thoughts  and  desires 
of  his  creatures  only  through  the  medium  of 
signs,  whether  verbal  or  otherwise.     We  are 


OMNIPRESENCE    OF    DEITY.  17 

apt  to  attribute  to  the  signs  of  thought  an  im- 
portance which  is  not  at  all  essential  to  them, 
but  which  arises,  great  as  it  is  to  us,  merely  out 
of  our  own  imperfection.  Thought,  when  un- 
recorded, (still  more  when  unuttered,)  is,  to  us, 
an  evanescent  thing ;  which,  from  its  fugitive, 
unfixed  character,  seems  hardly  to  have  a  real 
subsistence.  And  hence  proceeds  much  illusion, 
both  with  regard  to  the  extent  of  our  moral 
responsibility  and  the  nature  of  prayer.  It  is 
not  only  our  imperfection  which  needs  these 
signs,  but  they  are  likewise,  although  to  us  most 
precious,  exceedingly  imperfect  in  themselves. 
Language  dies  in  the  very  utterance.  Inscrip- 
tions even  on  brass  and  marble  perish.  Writ- 
ings and  books,  the  most  valuable  repositories 
of  thought,  are  more  perishing  still,  and  can 
only  be  perpetuated  by  renewal.  Thus  none 
of  those  symbols  of  thought,  on  which  all  our 
present  knowledge,  even  the  knowledge  of  a 
Saviour  and  of  eternal  life  depends,  (and  which 
therefore  may  be  regarded  as  the  best  gifts  of 
God's  providence,)  are  permanent  or  indelible. 
They,  on  the  contrary,  are  the  truly  evanescent 
things.  When  "  the  earth  and  the  works  that 
are  therein  shall  be  burned  up,"  those  works  in 
w^hich  the  thoughts  of  human  genius  and  erudi- 
tion have  been  for  ages  treasured,  and  as  it 
2* 


IS  otolPEESENCE   OF    DEITY. 

were,  embalmed,  will  become  fuel  for  that  awful 
pile,  as  many  like  them  have  already  perished 
ill  lesser  conflagrations,  and  by  other  modes  of 
destruction.  We  know  not  that  even  the  re- 
cords of  revelation  will  be  excepted  from  this 
doom.  But  when  all  mortal  signs  both  of  error 
and  of  truth  are  effaced,  truth  will  remain  per- 
fect and  unchanged  in  the  Divine  Mind,  where 
also  every  thought  of  every  thinking  being  must 
eternally  dwell,  or  at  least  can  be  obliterated 
only  by  Divine  power.  It  would  be  a  denial  of 
God's  omniscience,  and  a  supposition  of  imper- 
fection in  the  Deity,  not  to  beheve  this. 

We  are  not,  hov\'ever,  hence  to  infer  that 
prolonged  silent  or  mental  prayer  is  usually  de- 
sirable for  us,  even  in  secret.  On  account  of 
our  weak  and  limited  nature,  it  is  probably,  for 
the  most  part,  not  desirable.  The  utterance  of 
words  contributes  to  fix  and  form  our  thoughts, 
to  give  them  order  and  connexion,  and  even  to 
affect  our  hearts  more  deeply.  We  recognise 
more  fully  by  this  means  the  reality  and  con- 
tinuity of  prayer,  and  are  more  guarded  against 
its  distractions  and  inconstancies.  Yet  the  firm 
persuasion  that  mental  prayer  is  effective,  and 
that  we  may  really  address  an  ever-present  God, 
like  that  devout  petitioner  who  "  spake  in  her 
heart,"  (even  although  our  "  lips"  should  not 


OMNIPRESENCE    OF    DEITY.  19 

"  move,"  as  did  hers,)  is  of  great  value,  as  en- 
couraging a  habit  which  can  make  every  place 
and  scene  an  oratory ;  a  habit  also  which  will 
best  prepare  us  for  those  last  moments  or  hours 
of  earthly  devotion, — we  trust  by  far  the  most 
fervent  and  most  blessed, — when  the  tongue, 
the  lip,  the  hand,  the  eye,  shall  successively  fail 
in  their  weak  and  transient  offices,  but  when 
the  spirit  shall  more  closely  commune  with  Him, 
as  our  Father,  *'  who  hath  come  unto  us,  and 
made  his  abode  with  us."  Meanwhile,  it  is  not 
enough  that  God  be  with  us ;  in  order  to  the 
happiness  and  life  of  our  souls,  we  must  seek  to 
be  more  and  more  in  purpose  and  in  spirit 
with  Him.  The  Divine  presence  surrounds  and 
pervades  an  image,  a  plant,  an  irrational  animal, 
a  sensual  human  being,  who,  though  endowed 
with  reason,  and  capable  of  immortal  blessed- 
ness in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  his  Creator, 
is  yet  hving  "  without  God  in  the  world."  This 
is  enough  for  the  inanimate  and  the  irrational, 
for  it  is  all  which,  as  far  as  we  can  tell,  their 
nature  admits.  But  surely  it  is  not  enough  for 
the  human  nature,  which  is  conscious  to  itself, 
when  enlightened  and  awake,  as  soon  it  must  be, 
of  desires  and  capacities  infinitely  higher.  Let 
us  be  grateful  for  the  sustaining  presence  of 
God ;    but  if  we  would  not  forfeit  the  noblest 


20  OMNIPRESENCE    OF    DEITiS 

privilege  of  our  being,  and  incur  a  loss  which  is 
awfully  irreparable,  we  must  seek  that  gracious 
presence,  that  happy  intimacy  and  communion 
with  our  Maker  and  Redeemer,  which  is  the 
true  happiness  of  a  spirit.  We  must  pray  that 
the  feelings  and  faculties  of  our  souls  may  be 
increasingly  "  alive  unto  God,  through  Jesus 
Christ;"  that  we  may  exercise,  in  a  growing 
measure,  the  confidence  and  love  which  his 
presence  and  his  perfections  excite  in  the  glori- 
fied ;  that  we  may  be  able  to  say  not  merely 
"  in  Him  we  Hve," — but  for  Him  and  unto  Him 
we  live;  not  merely  "in  Him  we  move,"  whether 
physically  or  intellectually, — but  towards  Him  is 
the  supreme,  the  willing  movement  of  our  affec- 
tions and  desires ;  not  only  '•  in  Him  we  have 
our  being,"  but  in  Him  is  our  hope,  in  Him  is 
our  happiness ;  so  that  we  can  no  otherwise 
think  of  a  present  or  a  future  well-being,  than  in 
the  enjoyment  of  fihal  union  with  our  Father 
and  our  God. 


EFFICACY    OF    PRAYER.  21 


III. 

ON  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER. 

Only  so  fai'  as  the  unbelief  of  my  heart  ques- 
tions the  truth  or  Divine  authority  of  that  volume 
Avhich  everywhere  encourages  and  inculcates 
the  duty,  can  I  consistently  question  the  power 
and  efficacy  of  prayer  to  God.  Unless  the  re- 
corded success  of  those  devout  persons,  whose 
fervent  and  prevailing  prayers  the  Scripture 
mentions,  be  fabulous  or  imaginary;  unless 
the  prophets  have  falsely  pronounced  the  fol- 
lowing as  messages  of  the  Most  High, — "  I  will 
yet  for  this  be  inquired  of  by  the  house  of  Israel, 
to  do  it  for  them  ;"*  "  While  they  are  yet  speak- 
ing, I  will  hear;"t  "Whosoever  shall  call  on 
the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  deHvered;"J 
"  He  will  be  very  gracious  unto  thee  at  the 
voice  of  thy  cry;  when  he  shall  hear  it,  he  will 
answer  thee;"§ — then  the  true  Vv'orshippers  of 
the  true  God  have  always  had  reason  to  confide 
in  the  success  of  their  supphcations.     And  since 

*  Ezekiel,  xxxvi.  37.  t  Isaiah,  Ixv.  24. 

t  Joel,  ii.  32.  §  Isaiah,  xxx.  19. 


22  EFFICACY    OF    PRAYER. 

the  coming  of  our  Saviour,  the  grounds  of  this 
confidence  have  been  rendered  still  more  ex- 
plicit and  satisfactory ;  for,  unless  Christ  him- 
self was  in  error,  or  designed  to  mislead  others, 
when  he  enjoined  so  urgently  and  repeatedly 
the  duty  of  constant,  persevering,  and  importu- 
nate prayer,  when  he  recommended  it  by  his 
own  example,  when  he  uttered  the  declaration 
of  its  universal  success,  "  Every  one  that  asketh, 
receiveth ;" — then  w^e  have  the  strongest  assu- 
rances that  God  is  verily  "  plenteous  in  mercy 
to  all  them  that  call  upon  him." 

This  belief  is  inseparable  from  the  simple 
belief  of  revelation.  Except,  therefore,  I  am 
unhappily  and  presumptuously  inclined  to  re- 
nounce or  to  explain  away  the  revealed  truth 
of  God,  and  with  it  the  substantial  and  enduring 
hope  of  man,  on  account  of  certain  metaphysi- 
cal difficulties  which  may  be  raised  on  this 
subject,  I  must  endeavour  to  engage  in  the  duty 
of  prayer,  with  a  firm  conviction  that  it  shall 
never  be  in  vain.  But  indeed  those  difficulties, 
arising  from  our  unavoidable  belief  of  the 
"  determinate  counsel  and  foreknowledge  of 
God,"  have  in  themselves  no  weight.  My 
doubting,  or  slothful,  or  desponding  temper  of 
mind  may  suggest  the  thought, — How  can  I 
hope  to   move   or   influence   an  unchangeable 


EFFICACY    OF    PRAYER.  23 

Being  ?  "  The  counsel  of  the  Lord  standeth 
for  ever,  the  thoughts  of  his  heart  to  all  genera- 
tions." As  reasonably  might  it  be  asked, — 
How  can  I  hope,  by  taking  food,  to  renew  my 
strength,  or  prolong  my  life  ;  or,  by  applying  to 
the  physician,  to  obtain  the  removal  of  my  dis- 
ease? God  hath  foreseen  and  appointed  the 
term  of  my  life,  and  the  measure  of  my  health 
and  strength. 

In  these  cases  the  absurdity  of  the  objection 
is  at  once  apparent.  The  means  by  which 
health  is  to  be  restored,  strength  sustained,  and 
life  preserved,  are  as  much  objects  of  the 
Divine  foreknowledge  and  counsel  as  the  ends 
connected  with  them.  It  hath  pleased  the 
Divine  Providence  to  connect  them ;  and  the 
one  will  not  be  without  the  other.  So  it  hath 
pleased  God,  as  we  learn  distinctly  from  his 
revealed  declarations,  to  connect  the  reception 
of  spiritual  blessings  with  prayer ;  the  real 
welfare  and  prosperity  of  man  with  supplication 
to  the  Author  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift. 
They  are  as  strictly  united  as  knowledge  is 
with  study,  or  the  continuance  of  life  with  the 
use  of  food.  It  is  no  more  philosophical  to 
doubt  the  efficacy  and  the  consequence  of  the 
one  means  than  of  the  other. 

Am   I   then  to  expect  a  special  answer  to 


24  EFFICACY    OF    PRAYER. 

every  petition  1  Are  my  requests  in  prayer  to 
be  fulfilled  without  delay  or  disappointment? 
This  depends  on  the  character  and  terms  of  the 
requests  themselves,  and  the  conditions  or  re- 
servations under  which  they  are  made.  It 
would  be  not  only  unchristian,  but  irrational, 
for  so  short-sighted  a  creature  as  I  am,  to  pray, 
absolutely,  for  any  temporal  possession  or 
event,  or  even  for  the  immediate  communica- 
tion of  some  spiritual  benefits.  If  any  thing  be 
more  certain  than  another,  it  is  that  I  cannot 
foresee  the  effect  of  outward  things  upon  my 
real  good ;  nor  do  I  even  know  what  present 
state  of  mind  and  feeling  will  best  promote  my 
ultimate  happiness.  All  a  Christian's  prayers, 
therefore,  except  for  things  which  are  uni- 
versally and  immutably  good,  ought  to  be  quite 
conditional.  They  should  be  so  with  respect 
to  the  best  of  temporal  blessings,  such  as  the 
life  of  those  most  dear  to  us,  and  our  own 
health.  And  they  should  be  so  even  with  re- 
gard to  present  spiritual  enjoyments,  such  as  a 
sensible  experience  of  the  Divine  favour,  or  a 
full  assurance  and  foretaste  of  future  bliss.  In 
all  petitions  for  these,  there  must  be  a  submis- 
sive reference  of  our  most  earnest  desires  to  the 
wisdom  and  mercy  of  Him  who  knoweth  all 
things,  that  they  may  be  graciously  imparted. 


EFFICACY    OF    PRAYER.  25 

or  graciously  denied.  And  if  this  be  not  dis- 
tinct enough,  either  in  our  words  or  in  our 
thoughts,  we  must  conclude,  (when  our  desires 
remain  unfulfilled),  that  our  heavenly  Father 
kindly  interpreted  those  prayers  as  conditional, 
which  in  temper  and  language  were  too  abso- 
lute. We  must  believe  Him  to  say,  in  the 
refusal  or  postponement  of  our  request, — My 
son,  if  thou  hadst  meditated  more  on  my  per- 
fections and  thy  own  position,  thou  wouldst 
have  added,  like  Him  who  suffered  for  thee, 
"Nevertheless,  not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt:" 
and  thus,  in  love  to  thee,  for  the  sake  of  that 
illustrious  sufferer,  I  have  treated  thy  prayer. 

Our  heavenly  Father  has  promised  to  "  give 
good  things  to  them  that  ask  Him  ;"  *  i.e.  to 
give  at  all  times  those  things  which  are  always 
good  for  man,  in  measures  proportioned  to  the 
earnestness  and  frequency  of  the  request ;  and 
to  give  those  things,  which  are  only  good  at 
certain  periods,  and  for  certain  states  of  cha- 
racter, only  when  they  will  thus  become 
"  good  things."  If  this  could  be  otherwise,  we 
must  suppose  the  all-wise  and  all-gracious  God 
to  give,  not "  good  things"  to  them  that  ask  him, 
but  things  which  they  erroneously  suppose  to 
be  good  for  them ;  which  would  be  fearfully 

*  Matthew,  vii.  1 1, 


26  EFFICACY    OF    PRAYER. 

contrary  to  the  Divine  attributes  and  to  our 
welfare.  It  is  evident,  that  the  spirit  of  our 
prayers,  and  our  hopes  as  to  their  efficacy, 
should  be  regulated  by  these  considerations. 

There  are  petitions  which  may  be  always 
unconditionally  presented;  such  as  for  the  in- 
fluences of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  general,  for  vic- 
tory over  sin,  and  growth  in  holiness ;  more 
particularly  for  strength  in  the  fulfilment  of 
known  duty,  for  direction  in  doubt  and  difficulty 
where  our  duty  is  concerned,  for  help  to  exer- 
cise each  Christian  temper  and  grace,  for 
deliverance  from  every  evil  disposition,  for 
increasing  conformity  to  Christ,  and  faith  and 
love  towards  him.  Yet  even  to  these  petitions 
I  am  not  to  expect  sudden,  complete,  or  sensible 
answers.  This  would  be  putting  an  end  to  m}^ 
state  of  trial,  and  would  be  manifestly  at  vari- 
ance with  the  order  of  God's  moral  govern- 
ment. The  efficacy  of  these  prayers  is 
sufficiently  evinced,  if  there  be,  on  the  whole, 
a  progress  in  the  attainments  desired  ;  and  it  is 
not  disproved  by  occasional  declension,  whether 
seeming  or  real,  any  more  than  the  efficacy 
of  food  is  disproved  by  occasional  debility  or 
disease. 

Probably  I  ought  to  ascribe,  much  more  fully 
and  strictly  than  I  do,  whatever  right  inclina- 


EFFICACY    OF    TRAYER.  27 

tions,  or  purposes,  or  habits  I  am  conscious  of, 
to  the  direct  efficacy  of  my  daily  petitions  for 
spiritual  good.  They  should  be  considered  not 
only  in  a  general  manner  as  gifts  of  Divine  grace, 
but  as  particular  answers  to  my  entreaties  for 
that  grace ;  supplies  immediately  connected  with 
my  renewed  requests.  It  is  true,  I  have  even  now 
cause  to  be  profoundly  humbled  at  the  experi- 
ence of  evil  in  my  heart  and  life ;  but,  were  it 
supposable,  that,  without  apostacy,  and  through 
perversion  of  the  understanding  rather  than  of 
the  will  or  affections,  I  might  be  induced  hence- 
forth to  restrain  or  renounce  all  prayer,  there  is 
every  reason  to  conclude  that  my  spiritual  state 
would  thus  be  awfully  deteriorated ;  that  good 
wishes  and  designs  w^ould  be  speedily  weakened 
and  suppressed;  that  evil  passions  would  gain 
strength ;  that  the  doubts  which  even  now  as- 
sault me  would  triumph,  and  exclude  comfort 
from  the  soul;  that  my  confidence  in  God 
would  utterly  fail ;  that  I  might  be  betrayed  into 
some  dreadful  and  irrecoverable  fall,  prompted 
by  a  criminal  inclination  or  a  despairing  mind. 
We  read  of  persons  who  "  draw  back  unto  per- 
dition,"— "  abominable  and  disobedient,  and  to 
every  good  work  reprobate," — who  are  "  alto- 
gether become  filthy," — who  "  search  out  iniqui- 
ties," and   "encourage  themselves  in  evil," — 


28  EFFICACY     OF    PRAYER. 

"  who  say,  in  iheir  heart,  There  is  no  God."  We 
see  these  scriptural  statements  verified  in  the 
dreadful  example  of  some  around  us,  in  every 
class  of  society.  These  are  men  who  never  have 
truly  prayed,  or  who  have  renounced  prayer. 
And  to  what  but  prayer  as  a  mean,  (an  essen- 
tial and  efficacious  mean,  because  so  appointed 
by  the  Father  of  mercies,)  shall  I  mainly  attri- 
bute my  preservation  from  this  wretched  state? 
It  ought  to  be  ascribed  w^th  the  deepest  grati- 
tude to  the  mercy  of  Him  w^ho  "  heareth  us 
always,"  that  I,  who  am  so  fallible,  so  weak, 
so  sinful,  w^hose  heart  is  "deceitful  above  all 
things,  and  desperately  wicked,"  have  still  been 
enabled  to  "  continue"  in  prayer  ;  and  have  re- 
ceived a  portion  of  those  succours  which  prayer 
procures,  far  greater  than  the  unbelief  and  lan- 
guor of  my  approaches  to  God  w^ould  have  led 
me  to  expect.  All  these  considerations  should 
most  powerfully  operate  to  lead  me  constantly, 
with  devoted  praise  and  believing  supplication, 
to  his  throne  of  grace,  that  I  may  still  "  obtain 
mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need." 


APATHY,   ETC.  29 


IV. 


ON  APATHY  AND  DEADNESS  RESPECTING  REVEAL- 
ED TRUTH. 

I  EXPERIENCE  at  present  an  utter  averseness 
and  reluctancy  to  meditation  and  prayer.  But 
is  this  a  reason  why  I  should  refrain  from  these 
duties,  or  defer  them  ?  Surely  not ;  for  my 
state  of  feeling  implies  a  blindness  with  regard 
to  the  highest  truths  and  interests  and  expecta- 
tions, which  it  is  most  essential  to  my  spiritual 
safety  and  happiness  to  have  removed.  And 
by  what  means  can  I  promote  its  removal,  ex- 
cept by  sedulously  exercising  my  thoughts  in 
order  to  the  excitement  of  my  affections,  and  to 
the  effectual  solicitation  of  Divine  aid  ?  "  Many 
are  hindered,  because  they  refuse  to  give  them- 
selves to  prayer  or  meditation,  except  they  feel 
themselves  brought  to  it  by  devotion ;  and  ex- 
cept it  be  when  these  duties  delight  them,  and 
go  to  their  hearts ;  otherwise  all  seems  to  them 
unprofitable.  But  this  kind  of  men  are  like  him, 
that  being  vexed  with  cold,  will  not  go  to  the 
fire  except  he  were  first  warm ;  or  like  one  that 
3* 


so  APATHY    RESPECTING 

is  ready  to  perish  with  famine,  and  will  not  ask 
meat,  except  he  were  first  satisfied.  For  why 
doth  a  man  give  himself  to  prayer  or  medita- 
tion, but  that  he  may  be  warmed  with  the  fire 
of  Divine  love  ?  or,  that  he  may  be  filled  with 
the  gifts  and  grace  of  God  1  These  men  are 
mistaken  in  thinking  the  time  lost  in  prayer  and 
meditation,  if  they  be  not  presently  w^atered 
with  a  shower  of  devotion ;  for  I  answer  them, 
tiiat  if  they  strive  as  much  as  in  them  lieth  for 
this,  and  do  their  duty,  and  are  in  war,  and  in 
continual  fight  against  their  own  thoughts,  with 
displeasure  because  they  depart  not,  nor  suffer 
them  to  be  quiet,  such  men  for  this  time  are 
more  accepted,  than  if  the  heat  and  devotion 
had  come  to  them  suddenly,  without  any  such 
conflict." 

I  perceive  the  justness  of  these  arguments ; 
and  have  the  more  need  to  be  practically  influ- 
enced by  them,  inasmuch  as  I  am  not  merely 
like  one  so  situated  diat  food  will  not  be  brought 
to  him  if  he  bo  too  slothful  to  seek  it,  but  like  one 
whose  appetite  is  impaired ;  not  merely  like  one 
"  vexed  with  cold,"  but  like  one  beginning  to 
be  motionless  wilh  cold,  in  whom  sensation  is 
partly  blunted. — Rouse  thyself,  O  my  soul,  from 
this  spiritual  lethargy !  Remember  that  thy 
weak  indifference  cannot  produce  even  the  mi 


REVEALED    TRUTH.  31 

nutest  change  or  intermission  in  the  sleepless 
course  of  things.  Still,  amidst  seeming  rest  and 
inertness,  the  solid  earth  is  rolling  on  its  axis, 
and  rushing  through  space. — Every  planet  flies 
with  undiminished  velocity  through  its  vast 
orbit. — The  pulses  of  animal  life  vibrate  in  thy 
frame,  and  its  vital  fluid  incessantly  circulates, 
•while  thy  spiritual  Ufe  is  stagnating. — At  every 
moment,  unnumbered  beings  make  their  en- 
trance into  time,  and  a  multitude  take  their 
flight  into  eternity.— The  infinite  energy  of  the 
Eternal  Mind  is  awake  to  all  the  events  of  his  uni- 
verse, and  governing  them  all. — The  praises  and 
melodies  of  heaven  are  unsuspended. — The  la- 
ments of  the  miserable  are  wakeful  and  unas- 
suaged. — The  ever-prevailing  Mediator  continu- 
ally intercedes. — The  day  of  thy  summons  into 
an  unknown  world  swiftly  approaches  by  the  un- 
ceasing lapse  of  time ;  and  every  little  section  of 
the  dial  or  the  watch,  which  the  shadow  or  the 
index  traverses,  is  a  portion  of  thy  unintermitted 
(never  to  be  intermitted)  progress  towards  the 
home  of  spirits. — "  Behold,  the  Judge  standeth 
before  the  door." — It  will  be  but  a  transient  suc- 
cession, a  swift  continuation  of  hours  and  mi- 
nutes, and  thou  shalt  have  to  look  back  upon  the 
consummation  of  terrestrial  things ;  upon  the 
awful  disclosures  and  decisions  of  the  great  retri- 


32  APATHY    RESPECTING 

butive  day;  upon  the  moment  when  thy  own 
character,  as  viewed  by  the  Searcher  of  hearts, 
shall  be  first  revealed,  and  with  it  thy  allotment  in 
a  new  untried  existence  ! — And  now,  while  those 
scenes  are  yet  future,  every  action,  every  tem- 
per, every  purpose  and  bias  of  the  mind,  is  to 
be  regarded  as  a  sowing  for  an  eternal  harvest. 
The  influences  of  heaven,  even  of  the  Almighty 
and  All-holy  Spirit,  are  offered  to  him  that  im- 
plores them,  and  are  able  to  produce  in  the  soul 
"  fruit  unto  holiness,  and  the  end  everlasting 
life."  A  celestial  and  endless  blessedness  is  set 
before  thy  faith,  with  every  solemn  promise  and 
mighty  work  of  Christ  to  guaranty  its  reality ; 
and  he  who  is  gone  to  "  prepare  a  place"  for 
his  followers,  has  engaged  to  "  come  again  and 
receive  them  to  himself 

And  is  there  all  this  animated  activity  in  the 
creatures  and  operations  of  God  ? — All  this 
beneficent  energy  in  him  who  preserves  and 
actuates  them? — All  this  restless  rapidity  in  the 
flight  of  time,  and  in  the  progress  of  events  and 
dispensations  towards  their  final  period  ? — All 
this  growing  nearness,  and  amplitude,  and 
splendour  in  the  prospects  of  eternity  ?  Do  the 
records  of  revelation  meanwhile  open  to  me  the 
exhaustless  fountain  of  spiritual  good,  proclaim- 
ing, "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive  ?" — Does  He 


REVEALED    TRUTH.  33 

that  died  for  me  utter  the  awakening  words, 
"  Behold,  I  come  quickly, — hold  that  fast  which 
thou  hast,  that  no  man  take  thy  crown ;" — "  him 
that  overcomcth  will  I  make  a  pillar  in  the  tem- 
ple of  my  God  ?"  And  can  I  be  languid  and 
listless  in  the  midst  of  these  facts  and  these 
incitements  1  If  they  fail  to  move  and  stimu- 
late my  desire  or  fear;  if,  through  deep  stupor 
and  somnolency  of  spirit,  I  am  not  affected  or 
awakened  by  such  thoughts,  then  how  indispen- 
sable and  urgent  the  necessity  of  solemnly 
applying  (in  however  broken  a  manner)  to  the 
Father  of  mercies,  entreating  that  he  would 
dissolve  the  spell  w  hich  binds  my  soul ;  lest  at 
length  "  the  thunder  of  his  power"  should  rend 
it,  and  present  to  my  view^  not  the  mild  light 
of  grace,  but  the  "  fiery  stream"  of  judgment, 
where  "  the  hght  of  Israel  shall  be  for  a  fire, 
and  his  holy  One  for  a  flame  l" 


34  IMPERFECTION    OF   HUMAN 


V. 


ON  THE  IMPERFECTION  OF  ALL  HUMAN  THOUGHT 
AND  LANGUAGE  UN  THE  VIEW  OF  THE  CREATOR. 

A  VAST  mountain  or  successive  ranges  of  per- 
pendicular cliffs,  are  objects  that  powerfully  ex- 
cite in  us  the  idea  of  grandeur.  They  are  among 
the  sublimest  objects  within  the  near  scope  and 
measurement  of  our  senses.  And  it  seems  to 
be  chiefly  from  comparing  them  with  those 
lesser  things  to  which  our  near  view  is  usually 
directed,  and  particularly  with  the  minuteness 
and  feebleness  of  our  own  bodily  structure,  that 
we  gain  this  impression  of  their  stability  and 
greatness.  For  we  know,  on  reflection,  that 
the  grandeur,  even  of  the  Himalayan  moun- 
tains, is  merely  relative  ;  and  that  all  the  dif- 
ferent inequalities  of  our  earth's  surface  are, 
proportionally  to  its  magnitude,  but  as  the 
greater  and  smaller  grains  of  sand  or  dust, 
(differing  a  little  in  size  and  aggregation,)  which 
might  be  strewn  and  cemented  on  the  surface 
of  an  artificial  globe. 

So  there  is,  to  us,  a  grandeur  in  human 
eloquence.     To  hear  or  read  the  expression  of 


THOUGHT    AND    XANGUAGE.  35 

thoughts,  which  (in  our  figurative  way  of  de- 
scribing them)  are  eminently  clear,  solid,  lofty, 
and  comprehensive ;  which  are  well  combined, 
and  conveyed  to  us  by  the  most  distinct  and 
appropriate  signs  that  language  furnishes,  is 
highly  gratifying  and  elevating  to  the  enlight- 
ened mind.  And  to  minds  which  are  at  all 
spiritually,  as  well  as  intellectually,  enlightened, 
there  is  no  way  in  which  true  eloquence  can 
appear  more  nobly  exercised,  than  in  prayer  to 
God.  False  or  affected  eloquence  indeed,  is  in 
no  other  use  of  it  so  deeply  disgusting,  because 
in  this  it  is  not  only  puerile  but  profane.  The 
true  eloquence  of  prayer  is  that  simple  great- 
ness of  thought  and  reverential  fervour  of 
desire  in  which  lowliness  and  sublimity  meet. 
With  this  a  devout  and  well-ordered  mind  is 
elevated  and  charmed ;  charmed  perhaps  too 
much :  that  is,  as  far  as  the  charm  results  from 
an  admiration  of  superior  thought  and  ex- 
pression. For  we  know,  or  should  know,  on 
reflection,  that  the  loftiness  and  compass  of 
human  eloquence  are  as  merely  relative  as  the 
mass  and  height  of  mountains ;  and  that  in  the 
view  of  the  infinite  Mind  of  Him  who  "  taketh 
up  the  isles  as  a  very  little  thing,"  the  differ- 
ences between  the  most  expansive  and  the  nar- 
rowest,  the   most   exalted    and    the   humblest 


36  IMPERFECTION    OF    HUMAN 

modes  of  human  thought  and  speech,  are  utterly 
inconsiderable.  The  disproportion  between  the 
conceptions  and  communications  of  Lord 
Bacon  and  those  of  a  peasant,  is  to  us  im- 
mense ;  but  to  the  All-comprehending  Intellect 
it  is  only  a  difference  in  degrees  of  Httleness : 
it  is  as  the  difierence  between  Caucasus  and  a 
hillock  unto  him  "  who  meted  out  heaven  with 
a  span."  To  us  the  thoughts  of  some  few 
among  our  fellow  men,  and  the  medium  through 
which  they  are  conveyed  to  us,  appear  splen- 
didly distinguished  from  those  of  the  multitude : 
the  difference  is  real ;  and  is,  relatively,  great : 
but  it  is  a  difference  between  "  very  little 
things,"  and  therefore,  in  itself,  a  very  little 
difference. 

The  full  and  finished  strain  of  the  parent 
nightingale  enchants  us  ;  the  chirp  of  her  brood 
has  no  powder  to  please.  Both  however  are  but 
the  feeble  and  limited  notes  of  birds. — The  elo- 
quence of  Cicero  and  Chatham  transported 
their  hearers ;  while  a  child  or  an  miinstructed 
person  can  scarcely  give  distinct  utterance  to 
one  interesting  thought  or  emotion.  Yet  both 
classes  speak  only  "  with  the  tongues  of  men ;" 
and  thought  conceived  and  expressed  by  means 
of  so  earthly  and  frail  an  organization  as  ourh], 
is  probably,  even  in  its  strongest  conception 


THOUGHT    AND    LANGUAGE.  37 

and  best  enunciation,  exceedingly  weak  and 
circumscribed,  not  only  in  the  view  of  the 
Deity,  but  of  some  created  minds.  Even  to 
Newton,  the  difference  between  the  acquire- 
ments of  a  child  who  knew  the  first  rudiments 
of  numbers,  and  of  a  student  who  could  demon- 
strate the  theorems  of  Euclid,  must  have  ap- 
peared, comparatively,  trifling;  because  he 
himself  is  said  to  have  comprehended  the  latter 
intuitively.  We  cannot,  therefore,  doubt  that 
intelligences  of  a  higher  order  must  look  on  the 
highest  reach  of  human  science  as  infantile,  and 
the  ablest  use  of  language  as  a  very  indirect 
and  defective  method  of  signifying  thought. 
Even  we  feel  its  inadequacy.  How  much  more 
must  they !  And  if,  therefore,  the  differences 
of  human  thought  and  speech  appear  little, 
(when  absolutely  considered,)  to  superior  finite 
minds,  how  little  to  Him  that  "  fashioneth  oiu' 
hearts  alike!" 

These  reflections  may  counteract  the  shock 
which  imagination  sometimes  gives  to  faith, 
when  we  witness  a  peculiar  limitation  and 
feebleness  of  mental  powers ;  especially  when 
this  intellectual  feebleness  augments  in  propor- 
tion to  the  decay  of  bodily  health  and  life,  so 
that  all  sensible  indications  oppose  the  idei  of 
4 


38  IMPERFECTION    OF    HUMAN 

capacity  for  a  separate  spiritual  being,  and  of 
the  near  approach  to  such  a  state. 

Paley,  when  combating  that  skepticism  as 
to  a  future  Hfe  which  grounds  itself  on  the 
general  contractedness  of  the  human  faculties, 
very  pertinently  asks,  "  whether  any  one  who 
saw  a  child  two  hours  after  its  birth,  could 
suppose  that  it  Would  ever  come  to  understand 
fluxions."  But  with  regard  also  to  what  is 
sometimes  termed  second  childhood,  or  to  a 
comparative  childhood  of  the  mind  through  life ; 
the  thought  which  has  now  been  dwelt  on,  (that 
is,  the  small  absolute  distance  between  the  low- 
est and  highest  points  of  our  intellectual  scale,) 
tends  to  correct  false  and  painful  impressions. 

"  This  is  the  bud  of  being,"  says  Dr.  Young. 
If  a  very  young  florist  were  taken  at  early 
spring,  into  a  nursery  of  rose-plants,  and  saw^ 
but  a  few,  of  which  the  large  buds  began  to 
show  their  crimson,  seeming  ready,  though  but 
just  unfolding^  to  burst  into  bloom  on  the  next 
genial  day,  while  many  of  equal  age,  scarcely 
gave  signs  of  vegetation,  and  many  appeared 
checked  and  drooping  from  partial  frost,  with- 
ering rather  than  growing,  he  might  think,  with 
sorrow,  that  all  must  die,  except  the  few  w^hich 
were  budding  so  auspiciously.  But  the  culti- 
vator, with  smiles  at  this  fear,  might  say, — My 


THOUGHT    AND    LANGUAGE.  39 

Utile  friend,  to  you  the  difference  is  great 
between  an  opening  and  a  quite  unopened  bud, 
or  one  tliat  has  been  chilled  by  these  easterly 
winds.  But  despair  not  of  my  charge.  I  shall 
soon  transplant  them  to  a  better  soil  and 
position.  In  summer  they  all  will  bloom  ;  and 
some  of  the  humblest  seedlings  here,  or  of  those 
which  seem  to  you  all  but  lifeless,  may  then 
bear  the  sweetest  and  noblest  flowers. 

This  illustration,  weak  as  it  is,  applies  to  the 
different  degrees  of  development  of  the  human 
faculties  in  our  present  condition. 

To  return  to  the  consideration  of  eloquence, 
(one  chief  exercise  and  expression  of  human 
faculties;) — its  great  inadequacy  may  furnish  us 
with  one  reason  for  that  absence  of  the  "  ex- 
cellency of  speech,"  which  some  have  treated 
as  an  objection  to  the  Divine  origin  of  Scrip- 
ture. Had  Titian  become  a  Christian  mission- 
ary, and  been  stationed  among  savages  w^ho 
were  used  to  express  facts  or  thoughts  by 
rudely-painted  hieroglyphics,  it  is  highly  proba- 
ble that  he  would  sometimes  have  used  the 
aid  of  his  pencil  in  addressing  them.  But  it 
is  improbable  that  he  would  have  used  any 
of  their  colours,  or  selected  those  which  it 
was  their  taste  or  fashion  to  prefer,  or  adopted 
their  rules  for  mingling  and   applying   these ; 


40  IMPERFECTION    OF    HUMAN 

perceiving  that  neither  their  best  materials,  nor 
their  rules  of  art,  would  be  at  all  adequate  to 
his  subject.  It  would  be  much  more  likely, 
that,  with  some  simple  touches  from  a  fragment 
of  chalk,  or  sketches  with  a  half-burnt  brand, 
he  should  prove  to  them  that  his  genius  and  his 
mission  were  from  another  world  of  painters. 

The  thoughts  we  were  considering  before  this 
diversion  are  particularly  applicable  to  the 
subject  of  prayer.  They  forbid  me  to  indulge 
contempt  or  distaste  for  the  prayers  of  the  most 
limited  or  untaught,  provided  they  express,  even 
in  the  lowliest  channel  of  thought  and  utterance, 
an  unfeigned  piety.  "  The  Lord  looketh  on  the 
heart."  Incense  may  be  presented  in  a  cruse  of 
the  coarsest  pottery,  or  in  a  classic  vase  of  the 
most  ornamented  porcelain ;  it  is  of  the  same 
quality  and  value  in  each:  the  vessels  indeed 
differ ;  yet  each  is  but  an  earthen  vessel ;  and 
though,  in  many  respects,  they  are  contrasted, 
yet,  in  reality,  both  abound  in  flaws,  are  soon 
defaced  and  easily  broken. 

It  does  not  at  all  follow,  that  attention  to 
manner  and  language,  in  social  prayer,  is  im- 
proper or  superfluous.  And  even  in  secret 
devotion,  the  connected  clearness  and  unaf- 
fected energy  of  speech  may  be,  as  it  respects 
many  minds,  a  criterion  of  the  real  fixedness 


THOUGHT  AND  LANGUAGE.         41 

of  thought  and  concentration  of  desire  on 
spiritual  things.  So  far  as  it  is  an  effect  and 
proof  of  these  dispositions,  such  eloquence,  if 
he  be  ever  conscious  of  it  in  the  closet,  must 
and  should  afford  satisfaction  to  the  Christian. 
But  yet,  the  reflections  which  have  been  now 
dwelt  upon,  should  equally  guard  him  against 
vain  elation  in  that  consciousness,  or  despon- 
dency at  the  want  of  it.  At  one  time,  perhaps, 
he  is  happily  borne  on,  in  a  strain  of  devotion 
which  is  fluent  and  forcible.  Thoughts  and 
words  arise  spontaneously,  and  connect  them- 
selves without  effort.  He  "  pours  out  his  heart" 
with  a  copious  and  glowing  freedom  before  his 
Father,  who  seeth  in  secret.  And  can  petty 
*'  pride  and  naughtiness"  find  fuel  for  self-idol- 
atry even  there  ? 

The  most  usual,  and  strongest  rebuke  of  such 
a  feeling  is,  "  What  hast  thou  that  thou  hast  not 
received  ?"  As  well  might  the  dumb,  to  whom 
our  Saviour  restored  the  power  of  speech,  have 
prided  themselves  on  the  eloquence  of  their 
thanksgivings  1 

But  a  further  rebuke  may  be  drawn  from  the 
present  topic.  What  is  the  amount  of  differ- 
ence, in  the  ear  of  Him  who  heareth  prayer,  or 
even  of  His  angels,  between  thy  best  addresses, 
and  the  meanest  or  most  embarrassed  words 
4* 


42  IMPERFECTION    OF    HUMAN 

of  genuine  worship  which  arise  from  the  hut, 
the  work-shop,  or  the  field  ? 

Perhaps,  however,  there  may  be  more  fre- 
quent occasion  to  apply  this  thought  to  the 
relief  of  discouragement.  The  w^orshipper's 
mind  is  confused  ;  untuned  by  anxiety,  haunted 
by  some  prevailing  idea.  Unrestrained  by  the 
presence  of  fellow  creatures,  and  but  faintly 
realising  the  presence  of  the  Invisible  Spirit,  he 
utters  incoherent  petitions  and  praises,  repeals 
the  same  thoughts  and  words,  or  uses  such  as 
are  inapproprrate :  instead  of  distinctly  solicit- 
ing particular  blessings,  deprecating  special 
evils  and  dangers,  acknowledging  individual 
mercies, — his  petitions  are  a  sort  of  helpless 
summary  of  his  wants ;  his  confessions,  a  dis- 
orderly acknowledgment  of  sin  and  weakness ; 
his  thanks,  a  dim  retrospect  of  half-remembered 
benefits.  The  review  of  such  a  kind  of  secret 
prayer,  or  the  consciousness  of  its  character 
while  uttering  it,  mortifies  and  dejects  the 
mind.  Indeed,  so  far  as  it  has  arisen  from  a 
real  decay  of  pious  affections,  or  from  distrac- 
tions which  it  were  a  duty  to  shun,  there  is 
reason  both  to  feel  compunction,  and  to  seek 
diligently  the  remedies  of  those  spiritual  ills. 
But  so  far  as  it  is  independent  of  such  causes, 
(and  none  will  doubt  that  it  may  sometimes  be 


THOUGHT    AND    LANGUAGE.  43 

so),  the  pain  with  which  it  is  contemplated  may 
be  reheved  by  various  considerations. 

He  "  that  inhabiteth  eternity,"  has  not  said, 
"  To  this  man  will  I  look,"  and  "  with  him  will 
I  dwell,"  even  him  who  worships  me  with  en- 
larged and  varied  thoughts,  with  lofty,  and  flow- 
ing, and  well-arranged  words ; — but,  with  "  him 
that  is  of  a  humble  and  contrite  spirit,  and  that 
trembleth  at  my  word.'  The  publican's  prayer, 
which  our  Saviour  commends,  is,  though  truly 
eloquent  in  its  kind,  such  a  brief  and  general 
supplication,  as  might  be  uttered  and  reiterated 
by  the  most  enfeebled  and  discomposed  spirit. 
And  perhaps  the  eyes  which  that  suppliant 
would  "  not  so  much  as  lift  unto  heaven,"  and 
the  hand  which  "  smote  upon  his  breast,"  were 
signs  of  confession  and  entreaty  more  ex- 
pressive than  his  vocal  signs,  in  the  "  presence 
of  the  angels  of  God."  "  We  know  not,"  says 
St.  Paul,  '•  what  we  should  pray  for  as  we 
ought,  but  the  spirit  itself  maketh  intercession 
for  us  with  groanings  that  cannot  be  uttered." 
It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  the  aid  of  the  Spirit 
does  not  necessarily,  or  always,  consist  in  im- 
parting or  enhancing  the  eloquence  of  words. 

These  are  the  weightiest  considerations ;  but 
the  thought,  which  it  has  here  been  attempted 
to  illustrate,  may  be  auxiliary  to  them.    For  one 


44      IMPERFECTION  OF  HUMAN  THOUGHT. 

may  justly  say, — This  feeling  of  the  poverty 
and  brokenness  of  my  prayers,  as  compared 
with  my  own  at  some  other  times,  or  with  the 
eloquent  devotions  of  others,  is  a  highly  exag- 
gerated estimate  of  difference  between  degrees 
of  weakness,  arising  from  the  very  minuteness 
of  my  whole  range.  To  an  insect,  it  may  be 
much,  whether  the  sun-beam  paint  his  wings, 
and  cheer  him  into  a  flight  of  some  hand- 
breadths  from  the  soil,  or  whether  an  autumn 
drop  have  so  stained  and  chilled  his  wings,  that 
he  can  but  flutter  from  blade  to  blade :  but  in 
the  eye  of  the  eagle,  or  even  of  the  little  song- 
stress who  aspires  to  the  morning  cloud,  what  is 
this  difference,  or  how  much  is  it  "  to  be 
accounted  of?" 

Perhaps  the  sublimest  strain  of  worship  that 
ever  a  mere  mortal  uttered,  has  been,  in  the 
estimation  of  higher  intelligences,  no  more 
superior  to  these  broken  prayers,  (supposing  an 
equal  measure  of  true  piety  to  be  in  each),  than 
the  more  graceful  or  significant  gestures  of  one 
speechless  petitioner  would  appear  to  me  to 
excel  those  of  another.  The  mode  of  commu- 
nicating ideas  is  so  extremely  defective,  that 
its  differences  claim  little  or  no  regard.  Let 
me  ever  bear  in  mind  that  emphatic  and  gra- 
cious  admonition,    *'  My   son,   give   me   thine 


GREATNESS    OF    BLESSINGS,  ETC.  45 

heart."  Our  heavenly  Father  knows  that  his 
children  have  nothing  else  to  give ;  and  even 
this  they  give  that  it  may  be  "  formed  anev^." 
When  its  sacred  renovation  is  complete,  none 
can  doubt  that  the  intellectual  power,  the  afflu- 
ence of  feeling,  and  the  means  of  expression, 
will  be  perfected  beyond  all  that  hope  can 
anticipate,  or  imagination  reach. 


VI. 


ON  THE  GREATNESS  OF  THE  BLESSINGS  WHICH  WE 
SEEK  IN  PRAYER. 

Who  has  over  rightly  conceived,  when  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  throne  of  the  heavenly 
grace  to  implore  benefits  for  his  immortal  spirit, 
— the  true  greatness  and  worth  of  the  favours 
that  he  is  about  to  ask  ?  Nothing  but  the  reve- 
lations of  a  world  "  not  seen  as  yet,"  can  give 
a  due  impression  of  their  nature :  and  immor- 
tality itself  cannot  appreciate  their  amount,  be- 
cause it  will  be  everlastingly  to  come.     Yet, 


46  GREATNESS    OF    THE 

doubtless,  a  much  stronger  apprehension  of  the 
value  of  spiritual  good  might  be  attained,  than 
that  in  which  I  have  commonly  rested.  It  will 
be  attained  at  that  period,  (so  inevitably  sure, 
although  so  vaguely  and  dimly  anticipated,) 
when  I  shall  be  a  prisoner  on  the  "  last  bed  of 
languishing,"  w^here  sensitive  and  earthly  good 
must  be  viewed  in  its  real  insignificance  and 
impotency ;  and  I  must  feel  with  an  entire, 
irrefutable  consciousness,  "  All  this  availeth  me 
nothing !" 

What  an  incalculable  importance  and  excel- 
lency will  the  possessions  and  prospects  of  the 
soul  then  assume  in  its  own  estimation !  What 
words  or  thoughts  shall  then  suffice  to  compute 
the  preciousness  of  "  eternal  redemption,"  or  of 
that  "  partaking  of  the  Divine  nature,"  which  is 
the  pledge  of  perfect  and  imperishable  bliss ! 

We  can  imagine  a  subject  of  the  great 
northern  monarchy,  sentenced,  for  some  state 
offence,  to  banishment  for  life  into  the  Siberian 
deserts.  We  can  see  him  prostrating  himself 
before  his  prince  with  intense  anxiety  for  par- 
don, overwhelmed  with  the  bitter  thought  of 
perpetual  separation  from  all  that  is  dear  to 
him, — and  the  shame,  and  hardship,  and  deso- 
lation of  that  lingering,  irreversible  penalty. 
And  should  my  heart  be  cold,  when  I  fall  be- 


BLESSINGS    SOUGHT    IN    PRAYEH.  47 

fore  the  true  and  universal  Monarch,  as  an 
offender  against  the  state  and  Majesty  of  hea- 
ven ?  When  the  favour  which  I  have  to  entreat 
is  that  of  a  pardon  from  the  righteous  and  un- 
controllable Ruler  of  all  worlds  l  What  would 
be  the  intenseness  of  my  soHcitude  to  obtain 
this  act  of  grace,  and  the  satisfying  assurance 
of  its  reality,  if  I  could  contemplate  the  unmixed 
gloom,  the  hopeless  rigour,  and  unutterable 
ignominy,  of  a  spirit's  banishment  from  the 
Father  of  mercies,  and  from  the  society  of  the 
rejoicing  milHons  that  triumph  in  his  love ! 

There  is,  indeed,  this  most  happy  difference, 
that,  while  success  in  entreating  pardon  from 
an  earthly  ruler,  must  be  always,  in  a  high  de- 
gree, doubtful, — pardon  from  "the  King  eter- 
nal, immortal,  and  invisible,"  if  perse veringly 
pleaded  for  with  a  truly  penitent  heart,  through 
the  atoning  mediation  of  his  beloved  Son,  is 
declared  to  be  infallibly  sure  : — "  He  is  faithful 
and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse 
us  from  all  unrighteousness."  And  this  cer- 
tainty, it  would  seem,  must  remove  the  deep 
and  painful  anxiety  with  which  the  suit  would 
otherwise  be  accompanied.  So,  indeed,  in  the 
mind  of  the  true  penitent,  it  ought  to  operate. 
His  solicitude  should  not  long  be  of  a  nature 
inconsistent  with  substantial  peace.     Yet  it  is 


48  GREATNESS    OF    THE 

to  be  remembered,  that  he  has,  m  the  present 
life,  no  external  conveyance  of  this  Divine  par- 
don, and  no  internal  sign,  or  ratification  of  it 
which  will  prospectively  suffice.  The  well- 
founded  assurance  of  its  being  really  granted, 
can  only  be  proportioned  to  the  continued  sin- 
cerity and  faith  with  which  w^e  seek  it,  and  to 
the  unaffected  contrition  and  unreserved  allegi- 
ance of  soul,  of  which  w^e  are  lastingly  con- 
scious. 

That  precious  seal  of  personal  redemption, 
which  the  Holy  Spirit  is  ready  to  impress  day 
by  day,  continually,  can  find  no  place  in  "  the 
tablets  of  the  heart,"  except  that  heart  be  daily 
softened  and  made  susceptible  of  the  blessing 
by  penitential  prayer.  Supplication  for  par- 
don cannot,  by  the  enhghtened  and  truly  humble 
Christian,  be  felt  or  judged,  at  any  period  of  his 
earthly  course,  to  have  become  superfluous,  or 
to  be  a  mere  formahty.  Although  he  has 
attained  a  peaceful  hope  of  justification  from 
that  paternal  Sovereign,  before  whom  he  has 
long  bowed  with  unfeigned  penitence  and  true 
contrition  of  soul,  still,  in  order  to  maintain  this 
state  and  sense  of  acceptance,  he  has  ever  to 
sue  for  the  same  inestimable  gift  of  remission. 
What  humble,  self-examining  mind  will  doubt 
that  this  is  fit  and  needful,  both  in  the  review 


BLESSINGS    SOUGHT    IN    PRAYER.  49 

of  sins  long  past,  and  of  recent  offences'?* 
'*  We  must  renew  our  requests  for  pardon  every 
day,"  says  a  most  pious  writer :  "  It  is  more 
necessary  than  to  pray  for  our  daily  bread :" 
and  again,  "  Who  can  understand  his  errors  ? 
Who  can  enumerate  the  many  defections  from 
that  straight  rule  of  our  duty  ?' 

Nor  is  it  pardon  only,  but  it  is  the  gift  of  the 
Holy  Spirit ;  it  is  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  ; 
it  is  everlasting  life,  which  I  am  about  to  sup- 
plicate. And  by  what  measure  can  I  fix  in  my 
mind  the  magnitude  of  these  requests  ?  If  we 
had  seen,  in  former  times,  a  Castihan  nobleman 
about  to  enter  the  Escurial,  that  he  might  solicit 
an  appointment  to  the  vice-royalty  of  Peru, 
should  we  not  have  expected  strong  marks  of 
ambitious  desire  and  deep  concern  for  the  issue 
of  his  suit  to  appear  upon  his  brow  ?  And  yet 
how  strikingly  would  such  a  sight  exhibit  the 
penury  and  fallaciousness  of  this  world,  where, 
while  the  object  sought  included  power,  wealth, 
and  magnificence  almost  regal,  the  candidate 
would  yet,  in  fact,  be  asking,  with  all  the  de- 
votion of  his  soul,  for  a  burden  of  splendid 
cares !  When  a  Christian  appears  before  the 
King  of  Kings,  and  asks  to  be  prepared  and 
qualified  by  divine  influence,  for  a  "  crown  of 

*  James,  iii.  2 ;   1  John,  i.  8. 
5 


50  GREATNESS    OF    THE 

life,"  it  is  certainly  nothing  resembling  this 
earthly  domination,  or  selfish  glory  to  which  he 
aspires.  His  requests  are  consistent  with  the 
deepest  humihty  and  self-renunciation,  other- 
wise he  "  knows  not  what  he  asks."*  The  sum 
of  his  requests,  when  he  asks  aright,  is,  that  he 
may  be  enabled  perfectly  to  love  and  glorify 
God,  and  "be  satisfied  with  his  likeness,"  while 
all  the  praise  shall  redound  to  the  infinite  Giver. 
But  he  neither  can,  nor  ought  to  hide  from 
himself  the  vastness  of  these  gifts,  which  he  is 
encouraged  and  commanded  to  implore.  He 
asks  the  Uncreated  Energy  to  renovate  and 
re-mould  within  him  the  very  image  of  Divine 
perfection;  and  to  fit  an  heir  of  frailty  and 
guilt  for  incorruptible  and  eternal  joys ! 

It  might  be  a  weakness,  excusable  even  in  a 
thoughtful  mind,  to  be  somewhat  dazzled  by 
the  full  splendour  of  earthly  empire ;  to  forget, 
while  soliciting  a  pardon,  or  a  dignity,  at  the 
the  footstool  of  its  loftiest  possessor,  that  that 
imperial  hand  will  soon  be  in  the  dust, — that  I 
address  only  the  dying  tenant  of  a  delegated 
powder,  whose  successor  may  to-morrow  reverse 
his  pardons,  revoke  his  donations,  annul  his  in- 
vestitures ; — to  forget,  that  even  were  the  donor 
resolved  to  make  his  favours   irrevocable   by 

*Mark  x.  38. 


BLESSINGS    SOUGHT    IN    PRAYER.  51 

himself,  and  no  less  sure  to  survive  him  who 
obtains  them,  still  this  pardon  could  only  affect 
the  "life  which  is  a  vapour;"  these  honours 
only  extend  to  days  which  are  "  as  an  hand- 
breadth;" —  to  forget  these  truths  for  the  mo- 
ment might  be  a  natural  weakness.  But  how- 
strange,  when  approaching  "the  King,  the  Lord 
of  hosts,"  the  "  only  Ruler  of  princes,"  to  ex- 
perience an  illusion  precisely  contrary  to  this  ; 
to  have  been  dazzled  by  what  is  false  and  fleet 
ing,  and  to  be  dead  to  what  is  real  and  eternal ; 
and  how  inexcusable  to  yield  to  this  illusion 
with  a  sort  of  supineness ;  to  forget  without  a 
struggle,  that  I  address  Him  who  is  "  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting ;"  of  whom  "  heaven 
is  but  the  throne,  and  earth  the  footstool ;"  who 
hath  the  "  keys  of  hell  and  of  deatri  "' 

When  I  enter  on  this  employment  of  prayer, 
(which  except  when  attended  with  "  pomp  and 
circumstance,"  many,  that  bear  the  Christian 
name  contemn  in  their  hearts,  as  an  imbecile 
and  superstitious  observance,)  I  go  to  entreat 
what  none  but  the  Lord  of  the  universe  can 
give,  a  pardon  sealed  with  the  blood  of  that 
true  Victim,  who  was  "  slain  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world ;"  a  pardon  that  shall  be  in 
force  w^hen  "the  heavens  have  been  folded  up 
as  a  vesture,"  and  when  unnumbered  ages  shab' 


52  GREATNESS    OF    THE 

have  witnessed  to  the  "  heirs  of  promise"  the 
faithfahiess  of  Jehovah,  and  "the  immutabiUty 
of  his  counsel." — I  go  to  entreat  that  principle 
of  heavenly  life,  which,  if  it  be  kindled  from  and 
cherished  by  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  shall 
gloriously  assimilate  my  soul  to  Him,  in  whom 
*•  is  no  darkness  at  all." 

And  shall  the  sneers  or  the  coldness  of  an 
infidel  and  sensual  age  persuade  me  that  this  is 
a  weak  or  fanatical  employment  ?  Or  shall 
the  drowsiness  of  my  ov/n  spirit  degrade  it  into 
a  lifeless  task,  an  exercise  that  profiteth  little? 

But  pernaps  I  plead  in  extenuation, — it  is  the 
frequency  of  the  employment,  which  prevents 
my  rightly  feeling  the  importance  of  prayer, 
and  the  greatness  of  its  object.  Is  it  then  thus 
with  the  children  of  this  generation  in  their 
pursuit  of  wealth?  They  are  found  daily  at 
the  same  desk  ;  they  return  to  the  same  details 
and  inquiries  and  endeavours.  They  labour  in 
the  same  routine  of  calculation.  Every  acces- 
sion to  the  errand  balance  excites  new  dilcrence. 
and  makes  the  unremitting  toil  more  light. 
The  hoped-for  aggregate  is  still  in  view ;  and 
ail  the  irksome  steps  to  its  completion  are  for- 
gotten. "  So  is  he  that  layeth  up  treasure  for 
himself"  And  shall  I,  who  desire  the  infinitely 
jiobler  attainment  of  being  "  rich  towards  God," 


BLE5SI>-G5    SOUGHT    IN    PRAYEB.  53 

*•  rich  in  faith,"  rich  in  the  treasure  of  immor- 
lahty,  pretend  to  make  the  sameness,  or  com- 
monness, or  repetition  of  engagements  which  are 
the  appointed  means  of  this  glorious  acquisition, 
an  excuse  for  pursuing  them  carelessly  ? 

Have  the  suitors  and  aspirants  after  court 
favour,  with  an  ever-growing  sense  of  the 
uncertainty  of  success,  yet  persevered  in  their 
heart-sickening  round  of  efforts  and  repulses, 

"  Twice  told  the  period  spent  on  stubborn  Troy," 

or  have  they  been  induced,  through  successive 
yearfs,  as  another  of  their  number  has  mourn- 
fully recorded, 

"  To  lose  good  days,  that  might  be  better  spent ; 
To  waste  long  nights  in  pensive  discontent?" 

And,  shall  a  suitor  to  the  court  of  heaven,  be- 
lieving the  incomparable  grandeur,  and  sure 
altainableness  of  the  objects  of  Christian  desire 
and  hope,  plead  the  long  continuance  and  fre- 
quency of  his  suit  as  an  excuse  for  not  urging 
it  still,  with  a  reverential  but  untiring  ardour ' 
Surely,  to  those  who  receive  the  promises  of 
the  ?sew  Testament  as  divine,  the  truth  needs 
no  demonstration,  even  if  it  had  not  proceeded 
from  the  mouth  of  our  Saviour  himself,  that 
"  Men  ought  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint.** 
But  it  needed,  as  that  heavenly  teacher  knew, 


54  IMPORTANCE    OF 

to  be  strongly  enforced  on  our  unbelieving  and 
indolent  spirits  ;  and  still  must  the  grounds  on 
which  it  rests  be  often  reviewed  by  memory 
and  conscience,  else  the  seriousness  and  fervour 
of  our  prayers  will  bear  no  proportion  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  hope  set  before  us,  or  to  the 
greatness  and  the  mercy  of  Him  who  hath  pro- 
posed it. 


VII. 

ON  THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  DIVINE  INFLUENCE  UPON 
THE  THOUGHTS. 

It  is  obvious  to  an  observer  of  his  own  mind, 
that  a  great  proportion  of  his  thoughts  are  un- 
sought or  involuntary.  Objects  of  sensation, 
(even  the  most  minute  or  trivial,)  are  perpetually 
exciting  new  ideas.  And  so  multiplied  and 
diversified  are  the  associations  to  which  they 
give  rise,  that  it  is  impossible  to  predict  into 
what  train  of  reflection  any  circumstance  may 
lead  us.  And  not  only  do  outward  objects  or 
incidents  excite  different  thoughts,  in  different 


DIVINE    INFLUENCE.  55 

minds,  and  in  the  same  mind  at  different  times, 
but  the  subsequent  thoughts,  suggested  by  pre- 
ceding thoughts,  and  not  by  anything  externally 
perceived,  are  productive  of  others  in  a  series 
which  none  can  foresee.  "  So  completely," 
says  a  distinguished  philosopher,  "  is  the  mind, 
in  this  particular,  subjected  to  physical  laws, 
that,  as  it  has  been  justly  observed,  we  cannot, 
by  an  effort  of  our  will,  call  up  any  one  thought. 
The  train  of  our  ideas  depends  on  causes  whicli 
operate  in  a  manner  inexplicable  by  us.  Not- 
withstanding, however,  the  immediate  depend- 
ence of  the  train  of  our  thoughts  on  the  laws  of 
association,  it  must  not  be  imagined  that  the 
will  possesses  no  influence  over  it. — Of  the 
powers  which  the  mind  possesses  over  the  train 
of  its  thoughts,  the  most  obvious  is  its  power  of 
singling  out  an}^  one  of  them  at  pleasure,  of  de- 
taining it,  and  of  making  it  a  particular  object 
of  attention.  By  doing  so,  we  not  only  stop 
the  succession  that  would  otherwise  take  place, 
but,  in  consequence  of  our  bringing  into  view 
the  less  obvious  relations  among  our  ideas,  we 
frequently  divert  the  current  of  our  thoughts 
into  a  new  channel." 

Admitting  the  last  statement  to  be  practically 
good  and  true,  I  would  use  those  consideration^ 
whicli  my  own  consciousness  and  the  specula- 


5G  IMPORTANCE    OF 

tions  of  others  furnish,  on  this  very  obscure 
subject,  to  aid  in  deepening  nny  conviction  of 
spiritual  influence. 

If  it  be  impossible  for  me  to  pre-determine,  or 
foreknow,  what  thoughts  will  be  suggested  to 
my  mind,  even  when  I  am  engaged  in  a  par- 
ticular mental  occupation,  (and  still  more  obvi- 
ously so  when  my  attention  is  not  directed  to 
any  special  study,  or  when  a  variety  of  external 
communications  are  made  through  the  senses,) 
how  can  I  possibly  calculate  in  how  high  a  de- 
gree a  special  Divine  influence  may  or  might 
regulate,  quite  imperceptibly,  the  succession  of 
thoughts,  and  the  consequent  train  of  desires, 
purposes  and  actions. 

As  far,  indeed,  as  the  first  suggestion  ol 
thought  depends  upon  influence  from  without,  I 
have  to  ascribe  it  to  the  general  or  providential 
government  of  God  ;  but  the  association  of  one 
thought  with  another,  and  of  that  with  a  third, 
and  the  excitement,  thus,  of  a  very  numerous 
succession  of  thoughts,  is  one  of  the  most 
secret  and  mysterious  processes  of  which  we 
can  conceive.  It  is  a  sort  of  generative  or 
creative  process,  inexpressibly  rapid,  and  indefi- 
nitely variable.     To  illustrate  this  by  example : 

I  see  a  rainbow.  It  may  suggest  to  me  the 
heavenly  messenger  of  the  Grecian  mythology. 


DIVINE    INFLUENCE.  67 

and  lead  me,  either  to  the  poetry  of  Homer,  or 
the  temples  of  Athens ;  to  the  horrors  of  war, 
or  the  beauties  of  sculpture.  Or,  the  briUiancy 
of  its  violet  rays  may  bring  to  mind,  either  the 
flower  of  that  name,  or  the  rich  plumage  of 
American  birds ;  and  it  may  depend  on  which 
of  these  associations  presents  itself,  whether  I 
shall  retrace  a  rural  walk  with  a  departed 
friend,  or  reflect  on  the  conquest  of  Mexico, 
and  the  wealth  or  barbaric  splendour  of  its 
monarchs.  Or,  the  rainbow  may  be  viewed  as 
the  token  of  God's  covenant,  no  more  to  de- 
stroy the  earth  by  a  deluge ;  and  I  may  thence 
be  led  to  reflections  on  the  doom  of  the  antedi- 
luvians ;  to  speculations  on  geology ;  or  to 
thoughts  on  that  predicted  destruction,  by  an 
opposite  element,  which  awaits  the  globe.  Or, 
the  first  sight  of  the  rainbow  may  suggest  the 
Newtonian  theory  of  optics ;  and  this  may  con- 
duct me,  either  to  the  telescope  or  to  the  micro- 
scope, thence  to  the  history  of  insects,  or  the 
lunar  influence  on  the  tides ;  or,  first,  to  the 
character  of  Newton,  and  then  to  the  capacities 
of  the  human  intellect.  These  are  but  a  few 
of  the  obvious  diversities  of  thought,  which  a 
familiar  object  may  immediately  bring  inco  the 
mind.  I  know  by  experience,  in  this  particular 
instance,  that  the  first  association  has  been  often 


58  IMPORTANCE    OF 

Utterly  unlike  any  of  these.  And,  if  the  first 
admits  of  such  variety,  how  incalculable  must 
be  the  subsequent  multiplication  of  such  v.a- 
riety !  How  immense  is  each  one  of  those 
fields  into  which  any  one  of  the  second  or  third 
series  of  associations  that  have  been  mentioned 
would  introduce  the  mind, and  howimpossible  is  it 
to  foresee  on  what  track,  or  what  point,  in  either, 
it  would  fix,  and  where  it  would  begin  to  take 
a  different  or  contrary  course  !  How  much 
contemplation  that  is  animating  to  human  hope ; 
how  much  that  should  excite  admiration  of 
divine  wisdom ;  how  much  that  is  connected 
with  scientific  inventions  and  designs,  or  with 
that  awful  consummation  of  all  things  which 
the  Bible  predicts ;  how  many  injurious  and 
presumptuous  doubts,  or  how  many  fruitless 
musings,  or  how  many  impure  and  seductive 
imaginations,  or  frivolous  recollections,  might 
arise  in  half  an  hour,  in  different  minds,  or  even 
in  one  and  the  same  mind,  all  originating  in  this 
single  source  ! 

Undoubtedly  much  will  depend  on  the  pre- 
vious inclinations  and  habits  of  the  understand- 
ing and  the  fanc}-.  The  theologian,  the  painter, 
the  agriculturist,  the  mathematician,  the  lover 
of  money,  the  voluptuary,  will  probably  have 
each  his  peculiar  associations  at  first  presented 


DIVINE    INFLUENCE.  59 

by  the  same  object,  and  will  all  likewise  be 
attracted  respectively  by  such  of  the  succeed- 
ing train  as  most  accord  with  their  desires  or 
pursuits.  This  shows  the  deep  importance  both 
of  our  practical  habits,  and  our  habits  of 
thought ;  and  the  duty  of  cultivating  those 
which  are  good  and  profitable. 

But  still  there  is,  most  certainly,  in  the  same 
mind,  a  vast  diversity  in  the  range  of  thought, 
according  to  the  occurrences,  the  cares,  the 
tempers,  or  passions,  of  different  periods.  The 
professed  study  or  occupation  of  an  individual, 
except  in  some  cases  of  most  intense  devotion 
to  one  object,  is  very  far  from  determining  the 
occasional,  or  even  ordinary,  current  of  reflec- 
tion. And  one  of  the  unnumbered  ideas  that 
have  this  hour  flitted  through  a  mind  scarcely 
conscious  of  their  passage,  may  at  another 
hour  be  held  fast,  and  become  the  source  of 
continued  meditation  and  serious  action. 

Nor  does  the  view  which  has  now  been 
taken  of  this  subject  at  all  suffice  to  express  the 
exceedingly  minute,  hidden,  and  often  most 
improbable  associations,  by  which  the  train 
of  thought  is  incessantly  liable  to  be  changed 
or  interrupted. 

But  all  these  considerations  tend  to  show 
what  illimitable  opportunity  exists  for  the  ope- 


60  IMPORTANCE  OF 

ration  of  spiritual  influence  on  the  soul.  That 
Power,  in  whom  I  exist,  can  not  only  present 
external  objects  to  impress  thought,  but  can 
determine  which,  amidst  all  possible  impres- 
sions, shall  take  place.  Or,  at  any  stage,  in  the 
career  of  thought,  he  can  suddenly  and  secretly 
alter  its  direction.  One  association  may  be 
selected  from  amidst  a  thousand  which  were 
as  likely  to  occur,  and  which  might  all  appear 
alike  indifferent  or  unimportant ;  or,  in  the  lapse 
of  countless  indistinct  momentary  conceptions, 
the  most  shadowy  and  fugitive  of  the  w^hole 
may  be  arrested,  and  made  to  assume  clearness 
and  force. 

It  is  not  easy  to  understand  what  the  philoso- 
pher, who  has  been  cited  above,  meant,  when 
he  wrote  of  "the  laws  of  association,"  and  of 
"  physical  laws,"  as  directing  the  train  of  our 
thoughts.  It  is  probable  he  meant  little  more 
than  to  give  a  name  to  operations  which  he 
acknowledged  to  be  "  inexplicable."  He  could 
scarcely  suppose  general  and  invariable  rules 
by  which  thoughts  proceed  from  sensations, 
and  from  each  other ;  for  what  could  be  less 
credible  than  this  supposition  to  one  who  had 
so  closely  observed  the  endless  varieties  and 
anomalies  in  the  suggestion  and  succession  of  his 
ov^^n  thought?     But  even  could  that  supposition 


DIVINE    INFLUENCE.  61 

be  maintained,  bis  admission  that  the  mind 
itself  has  a  power  to  "  stop,"  or  "  divert  the 
current"  of  thought,  evidently  overthrows  it; 
and  if  the  mind  itself  have  this  power,  how 
much  more  the  Supreme  and  Almighty  Mind, 
which  formed  and  governs  all  its  faculties! 

The  more  carefully  and  analytically  we 
reflect  on  this  subject,  the  more  shall  wc  be 
convinced,  that  the  influences  of  the  Divine 
Spirit,  (in  the  highest  degree  beneficial  and  eili- 
cacious,)  may  be  exercised  within  us,  and  yet 
be  entirely  undistinguishable  from  the  operations 
of  our  own  mental  powers.  That  I  should 
have  this  idea  rather  than  another;  these  passing 
remembrances  or  images  instead  of  those ;  that 
flow  of  thought  rather  than  a  different  one,  is  a 
thing  so  far  from  appearing  extraordinary  or 
supernatural,  that  it  accords  with  perpetual  ex- 
perience, and  excites  no  attention.  And  yet 
it  may  arise  from  the  express  and  special 
agency  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  may  ulti- 
mately have  the  most  important  eftects  on  my 
course  through  life,  on  my  usefulness,  on  the 
well-being  of  others,  on  my  eternal  happiness, 
and  theirs. 

It   is  very    material   to   consider,   that   this 
agency  may,  as  I  have  said,  be  altogether  un- 
discerned,  and  undiscernible  by  me ;  and  yet 
6 


62  IMPORTANCE  OF  DIVINE  INFLUENCE. 

my  best  purposes,  my  purest  actions,  my  escape 
or  recovery  from  temptations,  may  be  exclu- 
sively and  directly  its  result. 

It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  actings 
of  spirit  on  spirit  will  be  incomparably  more 
refined,  more  exquisitely  untraceable,  than  those 
which  take  place  on  corporeal  substances ;  and 
yet  how  incomprehensibly  minute  and  refined 
are  the  vital  functions  and  changes  in  the 
smallest  visible  creatures!  lie  w^ho  can  main- 
tain and  renew  all  the  complexities  of  the  vital 
system,  and  the  system  of  instincts,  in  succes- 
sive generations  of  animalcules,  can  surely 
bring  into  the  mind  a  thought,  seemingly  incon- 
siderable in  itself,  which  yet  may  be  the  sole 
original  instrument  of  determining  the  temporal 
destinies  of  a  kingdom,  or  the  everlasting  des- 
tinies of  a  soul. 

On  the  whole,  these  reflections  not  only 
expose  the  shallow  presumption  and  profane- 
ness  of  those  who  deride  the  doctrine  of  spiritual 
influence,  but  they  should  also  greatly  heighten 
my  persuasion  of  the  paramount  importance  of 
prayer  for  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  of  the 
unknown  benefits  w^hich  such  prayer  may  have 
already  procured  me,  by  influences  secretly 
leading  to  good,  and  diverting  from  evil ;  and 
of  the  still  happier  and  more  decisive  results 


ON    EXEMPTION    FROM    DISEASE.  63 

which  may  be  expected  from  continuing,  more 
importunately,  to  entreat  this  unseen  control 
and  direction.  Let  me  never  begin  the  day 
without  earnestly  imploring,  that  the  great 
Searcher  of  hearts  would  "cleanse  the  thoughts 
of  my  heart  by  the  inspiration  of  his  Holy 
Spirit ;"  that  he  would  turn  the  current  of  my 
soul,  "  as  the  rivers  of  water  are  turned,  whith- 
ersoever he  will  P' 


VIII. 

ON  EXEMPTION  FROM  SEVERE  RODILY  DISEASE  AND 
HARM,  AND  ITS  IMPROVEMENT. 

It  is  only  by  a  participation  comparatively 
slight,  (and,  through  the  goodness  of  the  great 
Preserver,  very  unfrequent,)  that  I  have  been 
experimentally  taught  the  severity  of  those 
bodily  sufferings  to  which  we  all  are  liable. 
In  any  part  of  this  frame,  so  "  curiously 
wrought,"  so  variously  assailable,  subject  to 
derangements  so  numerous — acute  pain  might 
be  permitted  at  any  time  to  arise,  which  would 


64  EXEMPTION   FROM    DISEASE, 

absorb  and  oppress  the  mind,  incapacitate  it 
for  either  fulfilling  the  active  offices  or  enjoying 
the  comforts  allotted  to  me,  and  induce  distress- 
ful forebodings  of  a  prolonged  anguish  which 
no  human  skill  could  remove.  Or  a  partial, 
and  in  some  respects,  trifling  harm,  might  con- 
fine me  to  one  spot ;  forbidding  all  variety  of 
scene  or  of  exertion.  The  invaluable  organs 
of  sight,  of  hearing,  or  of  speech,  might  be 
quickly  destroyed  or  impaired,  and  then  the 
principal  employments  of  my  life  must  cease, 
and  many  of  the  blessings  of  society  must  be  at 
once  resigned.  Or  some  disease  might  assault 
me  which  should  involve  the  hazard  of  conta- 
gion to  others,  or  be  attended  with  peculiar  and 
extreme  mortification  to  myself. 

But  are  not  these,  and  other  bodily  ills,  inci- 
dent to  our  earthly  condition,  so  well  known,  so 
often  suggested  by  observing  the  calamities  of 
those  around  us ;  or  have  not  they  been  so  much 
dwelt  upon  in  every  form  of  admonition,  that 
it  is  quite  superfluous  to  recall  and  enumerate 
them  ? 

Obvious,  and  almost  inevitable,  as  may  be  the 
kind  of  reflection  with  they  prompt,  it  has  not  yet 
been  deep  and  efficacious,  (and  therefore  claims 
to  be  presented  yet  again,)  unless  it  produce  a 
constant,  heartfelt,   and  practical  gratitude   to 

CxOd. 


AND    ITS    IMPROVEMENT.  65 

Have  I  to  confess  that  his  lenity  and  kindness 
are  sometimes  unacknowledged  and  unthought 
of,  who  has  exempted  me,  notwithstanding  mul- 
tiplied provocations  of  his  justice,  from  this  class 
of  grievous  trials  1  Or,  while  daily  presenting 
supplications  for  new  mercies,  am  I  frequently 
content  to  revert  to  these,  which  have  been  so 
long  continued,  or  to  recognise  their  actual  con- 
tinuance at  this  moment,  with  a  mere  heartless 
ceremonial  acknowledgment  ?  Then  are  there, 
indeed,  humbling  reasons  for  me  to  review  more 
feelingly  their  variety  and  their  value. 

But  besides  this  strong  claim  on  me  for  cor- 
dial thanksgiving,  the  exemption  from  severe 
bodily  calamity  should  also  powerfully  engage 
me  to  diligence  in  every  duty;  to  a  watchful 
concern  for  all  spiritual  improvement ;  to  perse- 
verance in  prayer  for  all  spiritual  benefits. 
While  such  exemption  is  granted,  I  am  not  only 
more  capable  of  bodily,  but  of  mental  activity ; 
and  especially  am  I  more  competent  to  regular 
and  enlarged  exercises  of  worship,  than  I  can 
hope  to  be  in  seasons  of  great  debility,  or  rest- 
lessness, or  pain. 

How  weak  and  ungrateful,  therefore,  is  it  to 

repine  under  trivial  indisposition,  or  yield  to 

passing  languor.     Rather  let  me  remember  the 

sufferers  who  are  "  weary  with  their  groaning;" 

6* 


66  EXEMPTION   FR03I   DISEASE, 

who  are  "  full  of  tossings  to  and  fro  until  the 
dawning  of  the  day  ;"'  who  obtain  few  and  short 
intermissions  of  the  most  distressing  and  tor- 
turing sensations.  On  these,  the  mercy  of  Him, 
who  "  despiseth  not  his  prisoners,"  will  compas- 
sionately wait,  and  their  "  sighing"  shall  "  come 
before  him ;"  but  for  me,  (while  indulged  with 
this  ability  and  opportunity  to  wait  upon  my 
God,)  there  should  arise  the  more  ample  and 
unwearied  petitions  for  every  sacred  gift,  that 
can  renew  and  strengthen  and  purify  and  en- 
rich the  soul. 

It  cannot,  or  ought  not  to  be  unperceived  by 
me,  that,  although  I  am  thus  favoured  with 
bodily  ease  and  health,  the  moral  disorders  of 
the  spirit  are  many  and  variable ;  some  more 
habitual  and  insidious,  others  more  occasional 
and  violent.  The  selfish  and  angry  passions 
sometimes  inflict  a  wound,  which  nothing  but 
new  supplies  of  the  grace  of  humility  can  heal 
Feverish  desires,  and  aching  discontents,  and 
wasting  anxieties,  invade  the  breast,  which 
resignation  and  the  cordial  of  heavenly  hope 
alone  can  soothe.  That  faintness  or  palsy  of 
the  will,  which  is  evinced  by  a  backwardness  to 
self-denying  duties,  by  shrinking  from  exertions 
which  conscience  claims,  and  by  general  "  wea- 
riness in  well-doing,"  may  be  found  in  humiliating 


AND    ITS    IMPROVEMENT.  67. 

connexion  with  a  physical  health  and  strength, 
that  have  been  denied  to  some  of  the  most  la- 
borious servants  of  God,  and  most  indefatigable 
friends  of  mankind.  And  whence,  but  from  a 
divine  energy,  quickening  and  upholding  my 
best  resolves,  shall  these  spiritual  maladies  re- 
ceive an  effectual  cure?  Conscious,  as  I  must 
be,  of  some,  if  not  of  all  those  internal  evils,  how 
can  I  hope,  even  partially,  to  subdue  and  expel 
them,  unless,  (by  a  vigilant  use  of  present  advan- 
tages and  facilities,)  I  embrace  the  favouring 
occasion  which  a  gracious  Providence  bestows  ? 
Is  not  now  the  time  for  progress  in  his  service, 
foi^  alacrity  and  steadfastness  in  every  good 
work,  for  zealously  and  importunately  seeking, 
from  the  Author  of  good,  that  complete  reno- 
vation and  health  of  the  soul,  which  should  be 
the  first  object  of  my  solicitude  1  If  life  itself 
be  given  and  prolonged  for  this  great  end,  then 
that  measure  of  bodily  health  and  ease,  on 
which  the  full  use  of  hfe  depends,  should  assu- 
redly be  considered  and  appreciated  and  em- 
ployed, with  a  reference  to  the  same  exalted 
purpose. 

Our  present  condition, — in  w^hich  a  prevalence 
of  these  blessings  is  combined  with  such  allot- 
ments of  past  and  present  trial,  as  have  deeply 
imprinted  on  the  heart  the  ills  to  which  life  is 
exposed, — is  peculiarly  adapted  to  promote  the 


68  ON   EXEMPTION    FROM    DISEASE. 

earnest  and  successful  prosecution  of  our  high- 
est good.  Have  our  chastisements  been  nu- 
merous and  severe  enough  most  intimately  to 
convince  us,  that  we  must  look  to  Heaven  for 
what  is  substantial  and  unfailing?  Has  the 
"  Father  of  our  spirits"  imposed  corrections 
which  have  sufficed  (as  instruments  of  his  di- 
vine power)  to  awaken  and  revive  a  sense  of 
our  dependence,  of  our  demerits,  of  our  spiritual 
exigencies  ? — And  yet,  are  these  so  graciously 
moderated,  especially  w-ith  regard  to  bodily 
suffering,  that  they  still  leave  the  capacity  foi 
pursuing  active  duties,  and  seeking  spiritual 
supplies,  in  a  great  degree  unimpaired  ]_>-jQan 
there  be  a  more  cogent  reason  for  grateful  and 
instant  assiduity,  both  in  action  and  devotion? 

Even  that  exalted  person  who  was  alone 
entitled  to  say  "  No  man  taketh  my  life  from 
me,  but  I  lay  it  down  of  myself;"  said  also, 
(and  the  solemn  declaration  has  more  force 
than  an  injunction,)  "  I  must  work  the  works 
of  Him  that  sent  me,  while  it  is  day; — the 
night  Cometh,  when  no  man  can  work." — To 
us,  not  only  a  day  of  life,  but  a  day  of  health, 
of  strength,  of  ease,  is  a  pure  gratuity,  which 
only  Almighty  power  and  goodness  can  confer; 
and,  though  this  gratuity  has  been  reiterated 
and  multiplied  so  long — w^ho  can  insure  it  for 
to-morrow  ? 


NTERCESSORiT    PRAYER.  ^9 


IX. 


ON  INTERCESSORY  PRAYER  FOR  RELATIVES  AND 
FRIENDS. 

Boundless  and  invaluable  means  of  benefi- 
cence, both  social  and  secret,  are  ever  open  to 
those  who  believe  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer  for 
others:  which  no  one  that  truly  receives  the 
Scriptures  can  deliberately  question.  Has  it 
been  enough  observed,  how  vast  is  the  worth 
of  the  Christian  revelation  in  this  particular 
view :  and  how  powerful  an  argument  of  its 
divinity,  (so  far  as  that  is  corroborated  by  every 
new  aspect  or  development  of  its  worth,)  may 
be  hence  deduced?  Without  discussing  the 
creeds  of  heathens,  ancient  or  modern,  it  is 
plain,  that  in  countries  where  Christianity  pre- 
vails, those  who  do  not  seriously  receive  it,  have 
generally  no  settled  beUef  (if  indeed  they  have 
any  belief  at  all)  in  the  direct  benefits  of  prayer, 
whether  personal  or  intercessory.  Yet  in  some 
of  these  persons,  the  sympathies  of  nature  are 
so  far  from  being  extinct,  that  they  appear  in 
the  tenderest  forms  of  emotion,  and  the  most 
engaging  acts  of  humanity. 


70  INTERCESSION    FOR 

I  shall  never  forget  the  scarcely  suppressed 
tears  of  a  late  amiable  metaphysician  and  poet, 
when  bidding  farewell  to  the  youthful  assembly 
whom  his  eloquence  had  charmed,  and  w^ho  were 
then  to  disperse  themselves  from  that  scene  of 
academic  enjoyment,  into  the  various  and  event- 
ful paths  of  busy  life.  This  indeed  might  be 
only  a  vague  and  transient  sentiment  of  melan- 
choly, on  the  occasion  w^hich  always  tends  to 
excite  it — the  last  time.  But  how  would  the 
same  refined  and  susceptible  spirit  have  felt,  had 
he,  like  Sir  William  Jones  in  India,  prevailed 
with  a  beloved  wife,  languishing  under  danger- 
ous indisposition,  to  quit  him  for  Europe  ? 

Even  were  there  not  other  and  far  weightier 
reasons  for  our  desire  that  both  "the wise  and  the 
unwise"  might  believe  the  gospel,  this  one  would 
seem  sufficient;  viz.  the  comfort  derived  from 
that  benevolence  which  is  exercised  in  prayer, 
towards  those  whom  we  may  have  Httle  or  no 
power  otherwise  to  aid,  or  influence,  or  requite. 
There  is  no  need  that  a  continent  or  a  sea  be 
interposed,  in  order  to  deprive  us  of  power  to 
aid  them.  For  a  child  in  a  distant  city,  for 
a  relative  in  another  province,  for  a  friend  in 
sickness  or  calamity,  for  one  who  has  our  best 
wishes,  but  whom  painful  circumstances  forbid 
us  to  meet,  how  little  can  sometimes  be  done,  or 


RELATIVES    AND    FRIENDS.  71 

even  attempted,  unless  faith  resort  to  that  exei'cise 
of  kindness,  too  often  despised  or  distrusted  by 
men,  but  chosen  and  prescribed  by  God,  which 
entreats  for  them  infinitely  more  than  man  can 
give  ?  By  the  art  of  writing,  and  the  facility  of 
conveying  what  is  written,  (both  which  are  sub- 
jects of  gratitude,)  I  may,  indeed,  address  to 
each  some  words  of  affectionate  counsel  or 
sympathy;  but,  besides  that  these  communica- 
tions cannot  be  very  copious  or  frequent,  and 
sometimes  are  wholly  precluded,  how  small  is 
their  real  value,  (justly  and  highly  as  we  may 
often  prize  them,)  when  compared  with  that  of 
heartfelt  addresses  on  their  behalf  to  Him  from 
whom  cometh  "every  good  and  perfect  gift." 
The  affectionate  wishes  of  a  Christian  friend 
should  for  this  be  most  valued,  that  they  may 
be  accounted  an  intimation,  and  almost  an  im- 
plied pledge,  of  his  affectionate  prayers,  which 
are  far  better.  " 

It  has  been  the  pleasing  compact  of  some, 
closely  joined  in  heart,  but  widely  distant  in 
place,  to  look  at  the  same  hour  at  the  moon,  or 
at  a  star,  and  thus  to  imagine  a  kind  of  sensible 
union,  by  being  alike  and  at  once  present  to  the 
same  beautiful  object.  How  does  it  heighten 
and  substantiate  this  device  of  friendship, 
(which  else   is  comparatively  a   fruitless   and 


7*/  INTERCESSION    FOR 

empty  refinement,)  to  commune  not  merely 
with  a  bright  emblem  of  the  divine  bounty, 
but  with  the  omnipresent  Benefactor  himself; 
to  pour  out  mutual  intercession  before  the 
''Father  of"  these  heavenly  "lights,"  "with 
whom  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow  of 
turning !"  My  dearest  friend  may  be  in 
another  hemisphere ;  or,  though  but  a  few 
leagues  divide  us,  a  cloud  may  conceal  that 
star  from  one  which  rises  in  brightness  to  the 
other.  But  if  w^e  devoutly  intercede  for  each 
others  w-elfare,  before  him  by  whose  presence 
all  time  and  space  are  comprised, — our  suppli- 
cations, whether  offered  at  one  or  at  different 
hours,  form  a  real  and  intimate  communion 
with  each  other  and  with  Him ;  a  communion 
fraught,  we  trust,  not  only  with  soothing  senti- 
ments, but  with  real  blessings.  The  showers 
of  widely  separated  regions  fall  or  flow  into 
the  same  mighty  deep ; — so  the  tears  of  Christ- 
ian sympathy  "  poured  out  to  God,"  though 
shed  in  the  remotest  climates,  may  be  said  to 
drop  into  the  same  ocean  of  his  loving-kindness, 
and  to  be  mingled  there. 

But,  besides  this,  our  kindest  thoughts  and 
wishes  for  our  friends  cannot  be  freely  ex- 
pressed to  them,  unless  our  regard  be  strictly 
reciprocal,  and  our  sentiments  on  the  most  im- 


RELATIVES    AND    FRIENDS.  73 

portant  points  be  similar.  The  most  faithful 
and  thankworthy  offices  of  kindred  and  friend- 
ship, are  well  known  to  be  the  most  difficult. 
If  I  perceive  or  learn  that  those  for  whom  I  am 
interested,  have  imbibed  false  principles,  or 
joined  seducing  associates ;  if  I  judge  that 
their  situation  may  invite  to  a  course  which 
will  endanger  their  peace  and  prosperity;  or  that 
they  have  been  hitherto  thoughtless  of  revealed 
truths  and  of  eternal  prospects,  or  perpetually 
diverted  from  them  ;  yet  how  hard  is  it,  in  any 
mode  of  intercourse,  to  convey,  beneficially, 
such  kind  admonitions  or  expostulations  as  my 
regard  would  prompt !  How  generally  dis- 
tasteful, how  strongly  repulsive,  sometimes,  to 
persons  of  every  age  and  class,  is  this  sort  of 
friendly  interference  !  How  do  pride,  and  the 
passions,  in  their  various  forms,  revolt  from  it, 
and  view  him  that  attempts  it  as  officious  or 
severe,  censorious  or  timid,  narrow,  melancho- 
lic, or  illiberal !  Not  that  the  risk  of  these 
imputations  or  impressions  should  prevent  us 
from  attempting  the  duty,  though  it  should 
make  us  circumspect  as  to  the  fit  manner  and 
the  fit  opportunity.  The  duty  involves  self- 
denial;  it  approaches  to  what  Saurin  has 
emphatically  termed  *'  moral  martyrdom ;"  and, 
therefore,  if  only  as  a  test  of  sincerity  and  as 
7 


74  INTERCESSION    FOR 

an  exercise  of  Christian  fortitude,  it  should  not 
be  wholly  declined ;  but  yet,  must  not  the  expe- 
rience of  its  great  difficulty,  and  the  belief  of 
its  small  success,  nay,  its  apparent  ill  effect  at 
times,  lead  me  to  prize  ten-fold  the  free,  indefea- 
sible privilege  of  secret  intercession  for  those 
on  whose  behalf  I  feel  so  deep  concern ;  a  duty 
far  less  difficult,  and  probably,  in  many  cases, 
more  beneficial?  To  my  child,  eager  in  the 
chase  of  some  new  pleasure  ;  to  my  parent  fixed 
in  some  growing  habit;  to  my  friend  intrenched 
in  his  favourite  opinions ;  to  my  kinsman  earnest 
in  some  absorbing  pursuit,  my  most  guarded 
and  affectionate  suggestions  may  be  unwel- 
come. But  methinks  it  cannot  be  unwelcome  to 
either,  nay,  that  it  must  move  the  heart  of  each, 
to  believe  that  the  voice  of  my  secret  prayer 
entreats  for  him  the  checks  and  the  incitements 
of  an  omnipresent  Friend,  the  all-powerful 
monitions  and  blessed  illuminations  of  a  hea- 
venly guide,  the  "  repentance  and  remission  of 
sins,"  the  grace,  and  wisdom,  and  renovation 
from  above,  which  insure  unchangeable  joy. 

And  who  can  say  what  are  not,  or  shall  not 
be  the  happy  effects,  immediate  or  remote,  of 
our  prayers  "one  for  another?'  Can  I  remem- 
ber critical  points  in  my  own  history,  or  have 
such  been  disclosed  to  me  in  the  history  of 


RELATIVES    AND     FKIENDS.  75 

Others,  when  either  bodily  danger  has  been 
imminent,  or  different  and  greater  perils  have 
impended ;  when  the  mind,  or  the  character, 
has  been  on  the  brink  of  a  gulf,  drawn  on  by 
a  pernicious  allurement,  entangled  in  a  hidden 
snare,  oppressed  with  trials  hardly  to  be  borne, 
urged  almost  to  desperation? — And  who  can 
say  that  the  prayer  of  a  departed  parent,  long 
since  uttered  and  recorded,  or  the  tender  inter- 
cession of  a  friend  far  away,  was  not  as  the 
chosen  invisible  thread,  which,  in  the  hand  of  a 
gracious  Providence,  held  me  back  from  ruin  1 
Who  knows  that  it  was  not  declared  by  Him 
to  whom  all  power  in  heaven  and  in  earth  is 
given,  or  by  some  rejoicing  m.inister  of  his 
compassion — The  prayers  of  my  servant,  to 
whom  thou  wast  and  art  so  dear,  have  come 
up  as  a  memorial  on  thy  behalf?  Those  secret 
supplications  are  the  instrument  by  which  the 
fulfilment  of  my  merciful  purpose  is  procured. 
In  remembrance  of  them,  I  rescue  thee  from 
this  destruction.  And,  although  every  source 
of  hope  is  liable  to  perversion,  this  can  hardly 
encourage,  in  the  minds  of  the  irreligious,  a 
delusive  reliance  on  the  prayers  of  others,  as 
superseding  their  own.  Guilt  and  danger  would 
be  consciously  aggravated  by  such  a  presump- 
tuous trust,  which  implies  a  measure  of  belief  in 


76  INTERCESSION    lOK 

the  momentous  truths  lh;it  arc  personally  slight- 
ed. No  one  can  rationally  exi)ect  eventual  bene- 
fit from  the  intercession  of  another,  (at  least  as 
to  this,  his  highest  in1(!resl,)  till  he  is  efrectually 
prompted  to  })rayers  and  endt^avours  lor  himscdl*. 
None,  when  so  promj)lcd,  can  he  injured  by  the 
grateful  and  aflcc^ting  thou^i^ht,  that  his  truest 
earthly  friends  may  hav(;  instrumentally  pro- 
cured for  him  the  awakening  influence  of  that 
Supreme  Friend,  to  whom  he  owes  the  deepest 
gratitude. 

Nor  let  it  seem  more  dillicult  to  believe  in 
the  efficacy  of  intercessory,  than  of  personal 
prayer,  even  towards  the  procurement  of  ever- 
lasting benefits.  All  j)raycr  is  but  an  instituted 
means,  connected  by  the  Almighty  with  his  own 
gracious  purpose ;  and  when  viewed  in  this  true 
light,  (a})art  from  any  idea  of  power  or  merit 
in  the  suppliant  oi-  recipient,)  the  one  kind  of 
prayer  may  be  as  readily  and  safely  conceived 
to  be  e^i(^acious  as  the  other.  It  would,  indeed, 
be  unscriptural  for  the  offerer  (as  well  as  for  the 
object.)  of  intcr(-ession,  to  believe  that  it  can 
procure  the  spiritual  and  eternal  good  of  an- 
other, unless  it  first  instrumentally  procure  for 
him  that  change  of  mind,  by  which  he  shall  be 
})crsonally  disposed  to  aovk  and  obtain  the  })re- 
rcquisites  of  hap})iness.     But  nothing  forbids  the 


RELATIVES    AND    FRIENDS.  77 

nope  that  it  may  conduce  to  these  blessed  re- 
sults ;  on  the  contrary,  the  facts  and  promises 
of  Scripture  intimate  that  it  often  does  so.  In- 
tercession for  near  friends  is,  in  pious  minds,  a 
strong  dictate  of  feeling;  and  ample  assur- 
ances sanction  our  belief  that  these,  like  all  our 
prayers,  shall  be,  some  way  or  other,  not  in 
vain.  How  delightful  is  it  to  hope,  when  we 
see  the  objects  of  fond  solicitude  in  any  degree 
answer  our  dearest  wishes,  that  prayer  has  not 
been  in  vain! 

Should  this,  however,  be  far  from  apparent : 
should  I  have  to  reflect,  as  many  have  with 
equal  grief,  that  thus  far  my  earnest  and  long- 
olTered  prayers  seem  fruitless; — yet  how  do  I 
know,  that  although  they  have  not  yet  procur- 
ed the  desired  good,  they  have  not  averted  far 
greater  degrees  of  evil  ?  How  do  I  know  but 
they  will  be  fully  answered  at  length,  and  the 
final  eflxisions  of  gratitude  both  to  the  Author 
of  good,  and  to  me  its  feeble  instrument,  be 
abundantly  increased  by  the  greatness  of  His 
long-suffering,  and  the  perseverance  of  my  poor 
affection,  itself  derived  from  Him? — No  doubt, 
in  a  future  state,  our  gratitude  towards  the  in- 
struments of  good  will  be  more  constantly  and 
entirely  subordinate,  as  a  feeling,  than  it  can  be 

here:  because  the  sensible  presence  of  Him  that 

7* 


73     INTERCESSION  FOR  RELATIVES  AND  FRIENDS. 

hath  "so  loved"  us,  must  give  an  inconceivably 
higher  tone  to  the  respondent  emotion  of  love 
towards  Him.  But  this  affords  no  sort  of 
ground  for  supposing  that  our  grateful  and  affec- 
tionate feelings  towards  the  humblest  instru- 
ments of  good  will  be  lessened.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  obvious  that  they  may  be  delightfully 
augmented,  and  yet  be  more  subordinate,  rela- 
tively, to  Him  w^ho  is  worthy  of  infinite  praises, 
and  who,  probably,  has  destined  all  the  happy 
to  an  immeasurable  progression  in  love. 

What  then  will  it  be  for  the  perfected  spirit 
to  embrace,  with  grateful  delight,  those  whom 
divine  goodness  prompted  to  seek  its  happiness, 
as  well  as  to  bow  in  rapture  before  that  Saviour 
who  purposed  and  prepared  and  dispenses  all 
good,  yea,  w^ho  is  himself  "all  in  all?"  With 
what  feelings  then  shall  the  child  bless  his 
parent,  the  husband  his  wife,  the  friend  his 
friend,  before  the  throne  of  God,  repeating  with 
ardent  acknowledgment — This  was  the  unwea- 
ried and  tender  suppliant  for  my  happiness — this 
the  beloved  friend  whom  thy  grace  taught  to 
intercede  for  me,  that  I  might  receive  the  gift 
of  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord ! 

And  what  will  be  the  correspondent  joy  of 
those  whose  weak  petitions  shall  be  so  remem- 
bered and  rewarded  ! — How  can  I  neglect  such 
a  'duty  as  this,  a  duty  which  ought  to  be  so 


MORAL    PERFECTIONS    OF   THE   DEITV.  79 

pleasing  and  consolatory  now,  and  which  will 
yield,  (there  is  every  reason  to  conclude,)  so 
afiecting  and  delightful  a  recompense  hereafter  i 
How  can  I  neglect,  while  observing  in  some 
measure  the  letter  and  semblance  of  the  duty, 
to  fulfil  it  also  in  "  spirit  and  in  truth  V 


X. 


ON  THE  MEANS  BY  WHICH  OUR  THOUGHTS  OF  THE 
MORAL  PERFECTIONS  OF  THE  DEITY  MAY  BE  ELE- 
VATED. 

It  should  be  my  study  to  obtain  a  stronger 
and  more  vivid  impression  of  the  moral  attri- 
butes of  God,  than  of  those  which  are  intellectual 
or  physical  only,  or  which  so  seem  to  us.  For 
the  former  more  intimately  affect  the  well-being, 
and  should  therefore  more  deeply  excite  the  joy 
and  adoration,  of  His  creatures. 

The  contemplation  of  the  greatness  and  wis- 
dom of  the  Deity,  is  one  kind  of  measure  by 
which  to  estimate  his  moral  attributes ;  though 
(I  suspect)  not  enough  resorted  to  for  this  pur- 


80  MORAL    PERFECTIONS 

pose.  It  is  a  truth  inseparable  from  the  idea 
of  God,  that,  in  Him  dwell  all  perfections  in  an 
infinite  degree.  But  we  know  not  how^  to  con- 
ceive of  perfection,  and  least  of  all,  of  an  infinite 
moral  perfection.  The  moral  excellence  which 
we  have  experienced  or  witnessed  in  fallen 
human  nature,  even  in  its  most  ennobled  and 
purified  state  on  earth,  is  so  imperfect  and  so 
limited,  that  it  affords  no  just  analogy  by  which 
to  rise  to  the  notion  of  the  moral  excellence  of 
the  Deity.  But  the  Creator  having  placed  bo- 
fore  our  eyes  the  sensible  proofs  of  his  bound- 
less power,  of  his  immense  wisdom,  of  his  ex- 
quisite skill,  we  should  attempt  to  measure  by 
this  vast  scale,  the  immensity  of  his  benevo- 
lence; the  universahty  and  exactness  of  his 
equity;  the  sublimity  and  refinement  of  his 
holiness ;  the  boundlessness  of  his  love. 

No  doubt,  there  is  a  contradiction  in  the  very 
thought  of  measuring  what  is  infinite;  but, 
since  we  are  of  necessity  unable  adequately  to 
conceive  of  w^hat  is  infinite,  we  should  aim  at 
some  approximation ;  and  it  will  certainly  ex- 
tend our  narrow  conceptions  towards  infinitude, 
to  avail  ourselves  of  the  grandest  measures 
which  the  senses  (and  that  scientific  use  of 
them  which  philosophy  has  made)   can  afibrd, 


OF    THE    DEITY.  81 

cither  in  the  way  of  figurative  comparison,  or 
more  strictly,  in  the  way  of  analogy. 

When  I  look  on  the  noon-day  sun,  and  con- 
sider '•  the  immensity  of  the  sphere  which  is 
filled  with  particles"  of  hght  issuing  from  it,  let 
me  remember  that  this  is  an  emblem,  only  a 
very  partial  emblem,  of  the  munificence  of  the 
Creator  ;  for  He  has  fixed  in  space  a  mighty 
host  of  suns,  from  each  of  w  hich  light  has  been 
directed  to  my  eye.  Or,  let  me  thus  reason  in 
the  way  of  analogy: — The  Creator  directs, 
perpetually,  particles  of  light  to  pass  from 
unnumbered  luminaries,  throughout  immeasura- 
ble spaces.  Of  the  minuteness  and  velocity  and 
multitude  of  these  particles,  it  is  impossible  for 
the  human  imagination  to  conceive.  Here, 
then,  is  exhibited  a  part  of  his  wisdom  and 
power.  But  the  attributes  of  God  are  all  alike 
inexhaustible'  or  infinite.  Therefore,  there 
must  be  goodness  and  rectitude  equal  to  the 
wisdom  and  power  whicii  are  here  displayed. 

Dr.  Paley  has  brilliantly  set  forth  the  view 
which  the  creation  gives  of  the  physical  attri- 
butes of  the  Deity,  when  he  says,  "  At  one  end 
(of  the  scale)  "  we  see  an  intelligent  power 
arranging  planetary  systems ;  constructing  a 
ring  for  Saturn  of  two  hundred  thousand  miles 
in  diameter,  to  surround  his  bodv,  and  be  sus- 


82  MORAL   PERFECTIONS 

pended,  like  a  magnificent  arch,  over  the  heads 
of  his  inhabitants ;  and  at  the  other,  bending 
a  hooked  tooth,  concerting  and  providing 
appropriate  mechanism  for  the  clasping  and 
re-clasping  of  the  filaments  of  the  feather  of  a 
humming-bird.  Let  me  apply  this  scale  to  the 
moral  attributes.  Reason  tells  me  that  they  are 
equal  to  the  physical ;  i.  e.  perfect  and  infinite. 
Revelation  enumerates  them.  "  A  God  of  truth, 
and  without  iniquity ;  just  and  right  is  He." 
'•  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right  ?" 
"  He  is  glorious  in  holiness."  "  The  Lord  God, 
merciful  and  gracious,  long-sufiering,  and  abun- 
dant in  goodness  and  truth."  "  His  compas- 
sions fail  not."     "  God  is  love." 

Do  I  wish,  then,  to  augment  my  impression 
of  the  stability  of  this  truth  and  faithfulness ;  or 
of  the  correctness  and  infallibility  of  this  jus- 
tice ;  or  of  the  plenitude  of  this  mercy ;  or  the 
vastness  of  this  love  1  May  not  an  augmented 
impression  be  attained  by  considering  a  part  of 
the  greatness  of  a  natural  attribute,  (which  is 
visibly  or  demonstrably  obserA^ed,)  as  equal  to, 
and  the  representative  of,  some  part  of  the 
greatness  of  a  moral  attribute? — For  example: 
— As  is  that  stability  of  divine  power  which 
continually  sustains  the  planet  Saturn,  a  mass 
one  thousand  times  greater  than  our  world,  and 


OF    THE    DEITY.  83 

guides  it,  together  with  its  immense  ring,  and 
its  seven  moons,  in  the  same  orbit  round  the  sun, 
from  age  to  age,  at  the  distance  of  nine  hun- 
dred milHons  of  miles  from  that  luminary,  and 
with  an  hourly  velocity  of  twenty-two  thousand 
miles — so  is  a  degree  or  part  of  the  stability  of 
divine  truth. 

Or  again, — as  are  the  diversity  and  exqui- 
siteness  of  divine  skill,  w^hich  forms  and  dis- 
criminates in  all  climates,  and  in  ail  ages,  the 
rudiments  of  an  emmet,  and  of  the  grain  which 
it  collects,  causing  each  to  reproduce  its  kind — 
t)r  which  creates  the  particles  of  hght  of  such 
an  inconceivable  smallness,  that,  although  dart- 
ed from  the  sun  at  the  rate  of  tw^o  hundred 
thousand  miles  in  a  second,  they  strike,  without 
w^ounding,  the  petals  of  the  most  deUcate  flower, 
or  the  retina  of  an  insect's  eye — so  are  some 
degrees  of  the  extent  and  exactitude  of  God's 
retributive  justice. 

Or  again, — as  is  that  stupendous  energy  of 
attraction,  by  which  the  almighty  ruler  governs 
all  the  planets  of  our  system,  rushing  through 
their  vast  revolutions,  "  enormous  globes,  held 
by  nothing,  confined  by  nothing,  turned  into 
free  and  boundless  space,"  and  as  is  that  mighty, 
yet  gentle  process  of  vegetative  life,  by  which 
He   calls   forth   the   foliage    on   ten   thousand 


84  MORAL    PERFECTIONS 

forests,  and  renews  the  plants,  and  fruits,  and 
flowers,  of  every  zone  and  region — so  is  a  por- 
tion of  the  unsearchable  strength  and  exceeding 
tenderness  of  divine  love.  "  Lo,  these  are  parts 
of  his  ways :  but  how  little  a  portion  is  heard 
of  Him."  For  what  are  the  herbs,  or  flowers, 
or  insects  of  a  single  planet,  (though  the  organi- 
zation, and  vitality,  and  reproduction  of  either 
of  these  classes,  unspeakably  transcend  our 
thoughts,)  when  compared  with  the  probable 
and  inconceivable  multiplicity  of  such  wonders 
in  the  universe?  Or  what  is  the  magnitude, 
swiftness,  or  unerring  revolution  of  one  worldf 
or  one  system  of  worlds,  (though  each  of  these 
baffles  all  our  conceptions  of  grandeur,)  when 
compared  with  the  vastness  and  multitude  of 
those  fixed  stars  or  suns,  some  of  which  have 
been  computed  to  be  at  least  four  hundred 
thousand  times  more  distant  than  the  sun  which 
enlightens  our  earth  ?  When,  therefore,  I  at- 
tempt by  such  comparisons  to  estimate  in  part, 
any  moral  perfection  of  the  Deity,  (although 
my  apprehension  of  it  will  certainly  be  raised 
far  higher,  than  by  more  vague  and  cursory 
views  and  expressions,)  I  am  well  aware  that 
the  highest  measures  which  our  faculties  can 
apply,  with  any  sort  of  distinctness,  are  but 
indefinitely  small  parts  of  those  which  would  be 


OF    THE    DEITY.  85 

attained  by  a  wider  survey,  and  more  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  works  of  God. 

Divine  revelation,  however,  affords  me  a 
different  and  a  direct  measure  of  the  moral 
attributes  of  the  Deity:  a  measure  which  is 
adequate  also,  (if  we  could  but  adequately 
conceive  of  it,)  because  it  is  infinite.  I  mean 
the  union  of  the  divine  nature  with  the  human, 
in  the  person  of  our  Saviour.  It  will  be 
acknowledged,  by  all  who  receive  this  amazing 
fact,  that  the  primary  design  of  it  is  the  mani- 
festation of  those  perfect  attributes;  including 
also  human  salvation,  and  probably  many  other 
glorious  efl^ects  which  eternity  will  disclose. 
Thus  the  grand  design  of  what  is  made  known 
to  man,  whether  in  the  works  or  in  the  word  of 
God,  is  to  exhibit  to  him  his  Creator's  perfec- 
tions. And  in  both  ways  of  communication,  the 
Deity  addresses  his  feeble  creature  in  vast  and 
sublime  hieroglyphics,  if  I  may  use  such  an 
expression  v/ithout  irreverence.  It  is  not  by 
fleeting  voices,  or  by  mere  written  declarations, 
that  he  announces  his  perfections.  When  he 
would  impress  on  us  his  omnipotent  wisdom,  he 
sets  before  us  the  earth  and  the  heavens;  the 
wonders  of  innumerable  worlds.  When  he 
would  make  known  the  infinity  of  his  holiness, 
justice,  and  love,  he  records,  that  the  "Word 
8 


86      ^.        ^  MORAL    PERFECTIONS 

who  was  with  God,  and  was  God,'*  "without 
whom  was  not  anything  made  that  was  made," 
assumed  our  nature  into  personal  union  with  his 
own  divine  nature,  and,  in  that  assumed  nature, 
became  a  sacrifice  for  sin.  It  is  true,  this  is 
(necessarily)  recorded  in  words;  for  the  stupen- 
dous fact,  which  is  the  subject  of  the  record, 
could  not  stand  permanently  before  the  eyes  of 
man,  in  the  present  world,  as  the  facts  of  crea- 
tion do,  unless  the  Son  of  God,  in  his  glorified 
state,  had  remained  on  earth;  or  unless  his  abode 
had  become  accessible  or  visible  to  us  in  our 
present  condition,  which  would  have  been  quite 
inconsistent  with  a  state  of  probation,  or  "a  life 
of  faith."  But  it  is  the  fact  of  the  incarnation, 
not  the  record,  which  is  the  expression  or 
measure  of  the  moral  perfections  of  the  God- 
head. Words  are  not  adequate  signs  or  sym- 
bols of  the  divine  attributes:  divine  acts  can 
alone  declare  these. 

In  other  worlds,  (possibly,  at  some  period,  to 
all  moral  beings),  the  fact  of  the  incarnation 
of  the  "  Word"  will  be  sensibly  displayed,  by 
the  view  of  that  nature  wherein  he  suffered,  in 
its  exaltation  to  the  throne  of  God ;  and  thus 
the  moral  attributes  of  Him,  that  "  spared  not 
His  own  Son,"  will  be  even  more  illustriously 
exhibited,  than  are  his  intelligence  and  power 


OF    THE    DEITY.  87 

by  the  spectacle  of  the  material  universe.  "  He 
that  liveth  and  was  dead,"  for  ever  occupies 
the  "holy  of  holies,"  within  the  illimitable 
temple  of  creation,  and  proclaims  to  all  crea- 
tures, **'  by  the  form  he  bears,"  that  in  the 
Deity  there  is  infinite  holiness  and  infinite  love. 
That  kind  of  measure  of  these  attributes, 
which  was  above  suggested,  is  confessedly 
indirect  and  insufficient.  It  is  an  attempt  to 
compare  them  with  other  attributes,  exhibited 
in  works  which  are  in  some  sense,  notwith- 
standing their  magnificence,  finite.  But  the 
"  great  mystery  of  godliness"  displays  these 
moral  perfections  by  a  deed  of  condescension, 
of  which  we  cannot  otherwise  conceive  than 
as  infinite.  If  the  incarnation  of  Deity  be 
more  astonishing  (which  the  incredulity  of 
many  seems  to  prove)  than  the  creation  of  the 
universe,  by  so  much  the  more  forcibly  and 
eloquently  does  it  express  his  moral  attributes, 
than  the  creation  expresses  his  intellectual  per- 
fection. For  if  those  attributes  of  God  which 
are  moral,  be  more  excellent  than  all  others, 
(and  this,  I  suppose,  cannot  be  denied),  it  is 
reasonable  to  infer,  that  the  manifestation  of 
the  most  excellent  would  be  the  most  astonish- 
ing and  glorious;  in  other  words,  that  the 
wonders  by  which  perfect  purity,  justice,  and 


88  MORAL    rERFECTI0>'3 

compassion  are  evinced,  would  far  exceed  those 
by  which  wisdom  and  power  are  displayed. 
It  was  worth  the  creation  of  the  material  worlds 
to  exhibit  to  all  spiritual  natures  the  depths  of 
the  divine  intellect ;  but  it  w^as  worth  the  incar- 
nation of  Him  by  w^hom  "  all  things  were 
made,"  to  exhibit  to  all  spiritual  natures  the 
heights  of  the  divine  rectitude  and  mercy. 

Does  X\ie  first  kind  of  measure,  by  which  I 
attempted  to  raise  my  thoughts  of  the  moral 
perfections  of  God,  become  of  no  use  when  I 
contemplate  the  last  unparalleled  fact,  by  which 
the  Christian  revelation  teaches  me  to  estimate 
them?  Quite  otherwise;  because  while  I  learn 
the  greatness  of  these  moral  perfections  from 
the  appearances  of  nature,  I  also  find,  in  the 
agreement  of  this  deduction  with  the  declara- 
tions of  Scripture,  and  with  the  inference 
derivable  from  the  most  wonderful  fact  which 
it  reveals,  a  corroboration  of  the  divine  truth 
both  of  the  declarations  and  the  fact.  And 
besides,  if  it  were  best  to  resort  exclusively  to 
the  incarnation,  as  the  direct  and  most  sublime 
proof  of  the  moral  attributes  of  the  Godhead, 
it  would  be  not  the  less  advantageous,  fre- 
quently to  meditate,  first,  on  the  "  eternal 
power"  and  wisdom  of  the  "  Godhead,"  as 
'  understood   by    the   things    that   are   made." 


OF   THK    DEITY.  89 

For  when  I  would  contemplate  Him  "  whom 
God  hath  appointed  heir  of  all  things,"  "  by 
whom  also  he  made  the  worlds,"  and  who 
"  upholds  all  things"  "  by  the  word  of  his 
power,"  as  having,  by  himself,  made  purifica- 
tion of  our  sins,  it  will  surely  enhance  my  sense 
of  the  wonderful  condescension  of  this  act,  and 
of  the  moral  perfections  which  prompted  it, 
first  to  reflect  distinctly  on  some  of  the  phe- 
nomena of  these  worlds.  When  I  have  intently 
considered  a  single  planet,  or  a  single  satellite, 
moving  through  the  heaven ;  or  have  thought 
of  that  vast  mass  of  waters  which  covers  but  a 
part  of  our  own  globe ;  or  have  attentively 
observed  the  shielded  "  gauze  wings  of  the 
beetle,"  or  the  "jointed  proboscis"  of  the  bee,  1 
have  a  much  more  exalted  idea  of  Him  who 
"  made  the  worlds,"  and  who  "  upholdeth  all 
things,"  than  if  I  had  merely  read  these  or 
other  declarations  of  his  power.  And  in  pro- 
portion to  my  real  apprehension  of  His  great- 
ness, will  be  my  appreciation  of  whatever 
divine  attributes  are  exhibited  by  his  voluntary 
abasement. 


8* 


9^  PRAISE    SHOULD    BE    EXCITED. 


XI. 


ON  SEEKING   TO  EXCITE   IN  OURSELVES  A  SPIRIT 
OF  JOYFUL  PRAISE. 

Our  worship  seems  but  a  strange  preparative 
l(.)r  heaven,  unless  praise  and  thanksgiving  form 
a  material  part  ot"  it ;  and,  indeed,  unless  our 
praise  be  accompanied  with  joyful  feehngs. 
Yet  as  he,  who  by  constant  and  earnest  practice, 
acquires  great  skill  in  music,  although  his  present 
situation  and  temper  lead  him  chiefly,  and  most 
naturally,  to  exercise  himself  in  plaintive  and 
mournful  pieces,  will  be  prepared,  when  in  differ- 
ent circumstances,  to  pour  forth  animated  and 
exulting  strains ;  so,  we  trust,  he  that  earnestly 
cultivates  a  more  and  more  intimate  converse 
with  God,  although  it  may  now  consist,  in  a 
great  measure,  of  sorrowful  confession  and  un- 
satisfied desire,  will  yet  be  fitted,  by  these  very 
exercises,  for  the  employment  of  the  same  de- 
votional habit,  the  same  heavenly  science,  in 
that  region  where  adoration  and  gratitude  shall 
be  the  unavoidable  overflowing  of  a  fulness  of 
delight. 

The  musician,  however,  if  he  have  reason  to 


PRAISE    SHOULD    BE    EXCITED.  91 

expect  that  he  is  to  take  part,  ere  long,  in  some 
great  festival,  where  every  chorus,  and  indeed 
every  note  will  be  in  the  strain  of  gladness 
and  triumph,  ought  frequently  to  attempt  these 
exercises  of  his  art,  both  in  solitude  and  in 
society,  though  his  pensive  mood  may  not  ac- 
cord with  them ;  for  this  is  but  fit  respect  to 
the  patron  who  gave  him  his  instrument,  and 
who  designed  it  ultimately  for  that  most  ho- 
nourable and  delightful  use.  He  should  remem- 
ber also,  that  these  cheerful  exercises  may,  in 
some  measure,  dispel  the  feelings  with  which 
they  disagree,  and  awaken  those  which  they 
express. 

The  application  is  obvious ;  but  it  does  not 
reach  the  difficulty  of  one  who,  when  oppressed 
with  sadness,  would  make  "  melody  in  his  heart." 
The  melancholy  musician  can  produce  the  same 
notes  of  gladness,  as  if  his  soul  was  in  every 
vibration  of  the  strings,  and  with  nearly  the 
same  vigour  of  expression  and  execution ;  but 
it  is  hard  when  the  heart  is  depressed,  even 
to  utter  a  form  of  words,  which  conveys  and 
implies  the  sentiment  of  gladness  and  thanks- 
giving; much  more  to  excite  and  sustain  the 
thoughts  which  such  language  expresses. 

There  would  seem  little  need  to  enjoin  the 
duty  of  thanksgiving  on  those  Christians,  who. 


92  PRAISE    SHOULD    BE    EXCITED. 

while  on  the  one  hand,  they  are  unassailed  by 
any  acute  pain  or  burdensome  anxiety  of  this 
life,  enjoy,  on  the  other  hand,  a  vivid  hope  of 
heavenly  blessedness ;  or  in  whom,  if  the  pains 
and  anxieties  of  time  become  more  severe,  this 
pressure  is  overbalanced  by  a  livelier  foresight 
of  the  joys  of  eternity.  Such  persons,  while 
these  peculiar  favours  and  supports  are  be- 
stowed, must  be,  like  the  apostles,  "  though 
sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing ;"  and  it  seems 
impossible  that  their  gladness  should  not  flow 
forth  in  fervent  thanksgiving.  But  there  is  a 
slate  of  mind,  in  which,  without  even  imagining 
that  we  are  absolutely  destitute  of  Christian 
faith  and  hope,  and  indeed  with  a  very  deep 
sense  of  the  value  of  these  graces,  we  may  yet 
find  it  exceedingly  difficult  to  rejoice.  This  is 
often  to  be  ascribed,  at  least  in  part,  to  natural 
disorder  or  debility,  either  secretly  arising  from 
the  inexplicable  and  refined  sympathy  of  the 
mind  with  the  body,  or  from  adverse  events 
and  circumstances  which  have  affected  both. 
In  this  state  the  imagination  cannot  freely  act, 
but  is  strongly  drawn  towards  thoughts  of  fear, 
doubt  and  sorrow. 

Nor  let  it  appear  to  disparage  the  genuineness 
or  reality  of  the  objects  of  religious  joy,  when 
the  term  imagination  is  used.     However  real, 


PRAISE    SHOULD    IJE    EXCITED.  93 

or  however  great  an  object  may  be,  whether 
earthly  or  heavenly,  if  it  is  not  under  the  cogni- 
zance of  the  senses,  imagination  alone  can  set 
it  in  a  lively  manner  before  us.  If  it  never  has 
been  subjected  to  the  senses,  and  in  our  present 
state  cannot  be,  then  imagination  can  draw  no 
aid  from  memory,  and  therefore  requires  to  be 
more  strongly  awakened  and  exercised  in  order 
to  embody  it.  The  lively,  joyful  exercise  of 
faith,  is,  in  eflect,  an  exercise  not  of  behef  alone, 
but  of  imagination  likewise. 

The  apostle's  expression,  "  We  look  not  at 
the  things  which  are  seen,  but  at  those  which 
are  unseen,"  justifies  this  view  of  it.  If  we 
would  exercise  a  vivid,  apprehensive  faith,  even 
in  an  object  purely  spiritual,  (as  in  the  Infinite 
Spirit  himself,)  it  must  not  be  by  bare  behef, 
but  by  an  attempt  to  conceive  or  image  to  our- 
selves (though  there  be  a  necessary  impropriety 
in  this  language,  and  in  our  narrow  concep- 
tions) the  attributes  and  operations  of  a  perfect 
mind.  And  with  regard  to  all  other  celestial 
objects,  we  are  compelled  to  view  them  under 
images  of  matter  and  form  and  place,  in  order 
to  attain  anything  like  distinctness,  or  reality 
of  conception. — These  imaginations  are  always 
more  or  less  erroneous,  as  they  are  necessarily 
founded  on  human  and  earthlv  resemblances 


94  PRAISE    SUOULD    BE    EXCITED. 

alone ;  but  while  we  may  be  quite  conscious, 
and  properly  so,  that  the  imagination  of  a  glori- 
ous object — as  of  the  exalted  Mediator,  or  of  the 
heavenly  regions,  and  of  their  inhabitants — is,  of 
necessity,  very  far  from  being,  either  adequate 
or  correct,  it  will  yet  be  right  and  profitable 
(within  certain  bounds)  to  cherish  and  encou- 
rage it,  as  producing  a  joy  and  thankfulness, 
which,  without  its  aid,  could  not  have  been 
awakened. — There  are  seasons,  when  to  some 
Christians,  it  is  very  difficult  to  do  this;  nay, 
to  some  it  is  habitually  so  :  Probably  the  minds 
in  which  an  extravagance  or  excess  of  imagi- 
nation, in  regard  to  revealed  objects  prevails, 
are  few  in  comparison  with  the  number  in 
which  the  conception  of  them  is  faint  and  lan- 
guid. 

Cannot  I  then  excite  in  myself  the  delightful 
temper  of  praise  and  joy,  by  endeavouring  to 
place  before  my  mental  eye  the  Vv^onderful  and 
gracious  acts  of  the  Son  of  God  on  earth,  when 
he  came,  in  the  fulness  of  his  compassion,  "  to 
seek  and  save  the  lost ;" — when  he  assumed 
''  the  form  of  a  servant,"  and,  through  that  veil 
of  humiliation,  his  revering  followers  beheld  his 
spiritual  glory,  "  the  glory  as  of  the  only-begot- 
ten of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth?" 
Can  I  not  image  him  to  myself,  as  addressing 


PRAISE    SHOULD    BE    EXCITED.  95 

from  the  smooth  lake  the  more  still  and  breath- 
less multitudes — or  dispensing  to  them  miracu- 
lous supplies  of  food  in  that  grassy  seclusion  of 
the  wilderness — or  gloriously  transfigured  on 
the  mountain  before  his  favoured  and  surprised 
attendants  ? — Cannot  I  trace,  in  every  look,  the 
ineffable  union  of  dignity  and  tenderness ; — and 
view  the  paralytic  arising  at  his  word; — and 
the  bhnd  rejoicing,  at  his  touch,  in  the  first 
beams  of  day; — and  see  in  all  his  works  the 
lively  emblems  of  his  far  higher  purpose,  to 
heal  the  spiritual  diseases,  and  conquer  the  spi- 
ritual death  of  a  race  that  is  self-destroyed  ? 

Can  I  not  find  matter  of  grateful  rejoicing 
even  when  stationed  in  thought  by  the  brook 
Cedron,  or  "  by  the  cross  of  Jesus,"  and  gazing 
on  that  meek  and  glorious  sufferer,  whose  pas- 
sion of  unknown  depth,  and  unsearchable  in- 
tenseness,  but  transient  and  for  ever  past,  there 
achieved  "  the  joy  set  before  him,"  and  made 
"  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  a  world  ?" 

And  can  I  think,  without  delight,  of  this  Re- 
deemer ascended  and  interceding,  having  "  led 
captivity  captive,  and  received  gifts  for  men," 
"  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on 
high,"  preparing  heavenly  mansions  for  his 
humblest  followers  ?  Can  I  anticipate,  without 
joyful  emotion,  his  second  coming,  to  receive 


96  PRAISE    SHOULD    BE    EXCITED. 

these  followers  unto  himself?  Even  now  he 
appears  in  "  the  presence  of  God  for  us," 

"  Our  Advocate  before  the  throne, 
And  our  Forerunner  there." 

But  what  will  it  be  to  be  personally  received  by 
that  sacred  and  sovereign  deliverer,  to  whom 
we  shall  owe  all  the  joy  and  blessedness  that 
eternity  can  impart  ? 

If  I  cannot  conceive  of  the  near  and  trans- 
porting interview  with  a  Benefactor  so  august, 
let  me  think,  at  least,  of  some  joyful  messenger, 
commissioned  to  prepare  my  exulting,  yet 
trembling  spirit,  for  the  honour  and  the  joy! 
Let  me  picture  in  thought,  a  kind  celestial 
guide,  leading  me  (and  those  dearest  to  me) 
through  some  majestic  avenue,  towards  the 
throne  of  his  glory ;  a  throne  not  decorated  by 
the  feeble  devices  of  art,  but  formed,  and  sur- 
rounded, and  approached  by  the  subhmest 
imagery  of  nature.  Let  silent  forests  and  sha- 
dowy mountains  be  the  vista,  and  radiant 
clouds  the  canopy,  and  these,  "  and  all  the 
dread  magnificence  of  lieaven,"  but  mere  ap- 
pendages to  the  majesty  of  Ilim,  who,  thus 
enthroned  amidst  the  noblest  wonders  of  crea- 
tion, unveils  the  far  nobler  symbols  and  expres- 
sions of  his  own  transcendent  attributes ;   and 


PRIVATE    WORSHIP    SHOULD    BE    SPECIFIC.       97 

thence  let  me  hear  his  mild,  though  awful  voice, 
saying,  (as  once  to  his  disciples  on  earth,) — 
"  Be  of  good  cheer,  it  is  I !  be  not  afraid  !" 

If  we  could  raise  our  minds  to  a  lively 
conception  of  scenes  like  these,  would  our  wor- 
ship be  unaccompanied  by  ardent  thankfulness 
and  sacred  joy? 


XII. 

ON  THE  DUTY  OF  MAKING  EVERY  PART  OF  PRI- 
VATE WORSHIP  SPECIFIC. 

Prayer  is  then  most  likely  to  degenerate  into 
a  mere  form,  when  I  allow  myself  to  rest  in 
general  praises,  confessions  and  supplications. 
The  memory  is  so  furnished  with  these,  that  the 
employment,  when  thus  conducted,  may  include 
scarcely  an}?-  exercise  of  the  understanding;  and 
still  less  of  the  affections.  In  pubHc  and  social, 
and  even  in  family  prayer,  a  much  greater 
degree  of  generality  is  obviously  necessary, 
than  in  secret  worship;  but  in  this  last  I  should 
be  careful  to  shun  it.  When  I  acknowledge 
the  goodness  of  God,  let  me  dv/ell  not  only  on 
9 


98  PRIVATE    WORSHIP. 

the  more  occasional  and  signal  experience  of 
it;  but,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  my  life,  let  me 
thoughtfully  select,  as  peculiar  topics  of  prease, 
those  possessions  and  privileges,  which,  from 
my  circumstances  or  temper,  I  most  highly 
value.  Do  I,  for  example,  especially  need  the 
counsels  and  supports  of  friendship?  I  have 
reason  to  make  it  an  especial  subject  of  thanks- 
giving, that  I  have  never  been  without  a  true  or 
confidential  friend.  Would  the  loss  of  sight  be, 
in  my  case,  a  peculiarly  grievous  privation? 
Then  I  should,  in  a  peculiar  manner,  bless  the 
Divine  Preserver,  that  this  faculty  is  fully  pos- 
sessed, or  has  been  so  little  impaired. 

Still  more  should  this  particularity  be  the  dis- 
tinctive character  of  secret  worship  in  regard 
to  confession  ;  that  being  a  topic  which  in  social 
worship  requires  to  be  most  general.  We 
cannot,  in  society,  confess  our  own  particular 
sins,  as  if  they  were  the  sins  of  others  also ; 
and  even  if  we  could  ascertain  that  some 
present  had  cause  to  make  precisely  the  same 
confessions  with  ourselves,  they  might  often  be 
of  a  nature  quite  unsuited  to  pubhcity.  But 
when  I  "  enter  into  my  closet,  and  shut  the 
door,"  it  is  of  great  importance  that  my  con- 
fession should  be  specific ;  that  I  should  recall 
and  acknowledge  my  most  prevailing  and  most 


SHOULD    BE    SPECIFIC.  99 

recent  offences,  so  distinctly  and  circumstan- 
tially as  to  bring  them  strongly  before  the  eye 
of  the  mind.  I  should  notice  their  particular 
causes  and  aggravations ;  not  yielding  to  the 
erroneous  notion  that  such  details  are  inconsis- 
tent with  the  majesty  of  Him  whom  I  address. 
He  knoweth  all  things ;  and  no  detail  can  be 
superfluous  or  unfit  in  his  estimation,  which 
tends  to  fix  my  spirit  more  deeply  and  repent- 
ingly  on  its  own  moral  defects  and  diseases, 
and  to  evince  more  strongly  its  desire  of  being 
*'  made  whole."  If,  for  example,  I  am  con- 
scious of  having  lately  given  w^ay  to  an  anxious 
and  impatient  temper,  let  me  not  be  content 
with  acknowledging  generally,  that  I  have  not 
"  ruled  my  own  spirit,"  but  let  me  confess  that 
I  have  not  done  so  in  that  particular  instance, 
where  provocation  or  trial  was  to  be  expected ; 
or  that  I  have  betrayed  heat  or  peevishness 
where  the  youth,  or  old  age,  or  ignorance,  or 
known  infirmity,  or  other  circumstances  of  the 
party  with  whom  I  had  intercourse,  should 
have  operated  as  a  strong  preventive.  If  I 
have  indulged  sinful  musings  and  desires,  I 
should  call  to  mind  the  immediate  source  of 
temptation ;  such  as  injurious  society,  or  perni- 
cious books ;  (whether  casually  presented,  or 
more  deliberately   sought) ;   or  the  w^ant  of  a 


100  PRIVATE    WORSHIP 

right  occupation,  or  a  distaste  of  what  is  good, 
prompting  the  unsatisfied  or  slothful  spirit  to 
resort  for  enjoyment  to  what  is  evil.  It  will  be 
both  an  exercise  and  an  incentive  of  penitence, 
to  trace  and  to  declare  these  motives  before 
God. 

If  I  have  to  charge  myself  with  the  omission 
or  delay  of  some  known  duty,  or  with  having 
performed  it  negligently,  it  is  not  enough  to  say 
in  secret,  what  may  suffice  in  public,  "We  have 
left  undone  the  things  which  we  ought  to  have 
done ;"  I  should  rather  acknowledge  to  the 
Searcher  of  hearts — this  duty,  which  con- 
science urged  on  me,  I  have  deferred,  through 
indolence  and  self-indulgence ;  and  in  that, 
which  I  nominally  performed,  the  most  diffi- 
cult or  important  part  was  scarcely  attempted, 
through  false  shame  and  imagined  incompetence. 
Or,  if  I  confess,  more  generally,  the  transgres- 
sions of  past  months  and  years,  or  even  of  the 
whole  course  of  life  since  I  became  an  account- 
able agent,  still  let  my  retrospect  and  my 
confession  be  as  particular  as  the  casa  admits. 
There  has  been,  doubtless,  one  kuid  of  sin  which 
has  most  frequently  or  successfully  assailed  me, 
which  has  been  inwrought,  as  it  were,  into  the 
very  texture  of  my  constitution  and  habit ;  and 
there  mav  be  vet  another  and  another,  which 


SHOULD    BE    SPECIFIC.  101 

the  review  of  my  own  experience  will  show  to 
have  been  often  prevalent.  Now,  even  in  what 
may  be  called  a  general  confession,  these  pre- 
dominant evils  should  be  distinguished  and 
specified.  Their  being  so  will  give  a  realising 
and  substantial  character  to  my  acknowledg- 
ments of  guilt,  and  will  deepen  the  correspond- 
ing sentiments  and  desires.  For  it  is  evident, 
that  specific  confessions  prepare  the  way  for 
specific  supplications.  If  I  only  confess  sin 
generally,  though  it  were  with  many  repetitions 
of  the  same  words,  or  with  many  variations 
which  are  little  more  than  verbal,  I  do  not  lay 
the  foundation  for  particular  requests.  But 
there  is  no  object  more  important  in  secret 
worship,  than  the  seeking  divine  help  and 
strength  against  each  particular  evil,  and  against 
each  wrong  habit  or  disposition  of  which  I  am 
conscious ;  and  the  kind  of  confession  which  I 
have  now  been  considering,  naturally  and  almost 
necessarily  leads  to  a  similar  kind  of  petition ; 
namely,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  would  succour  and 
strengthen  me  against  that  particular  sin  which 
has  been  expHcitly  acknowledged,  would  excite 
in  me  those  particular  motives  and  convictions, 
by  which  it  may  be  repressed,  and  impart  that 
especial  grace,  or  temper  of  soul,  which  may 
expel  or  subdue  it. 
9* 


102  I'RIVATE    WORSHIP 

Thus,  if  1  confess  the  unhappy  prevalence  of 
discontent,  respecting  a  particular  branch  of  the 
duties  which  Providence  has  assigned  me,  or 
concerning  an  especial  disadvantage  attendant 
on  my  lot  in  life ;  such  confession  will  scarcely 
fail  to  be  followed  by  especial  prayer,  that  I 
may  henceforth  learn  to  meet  the  difficulty,  or 
endure  the  inconvenience  referred  to,  with  an 
unrepining  and  m.ore  acquiescent  mind ;  that  I 
may  habitually  compare  this  trial  with  the 
greater  trials  of  some  around  me ;  that  I  may 
consider  how  utterly  unentitled  I  am  to  ask  a 
dispensation  from  this,  or  even  from  much 
severer  duties  and  crosses,  on  the  ground  of 
desert ;  and  that  I  may  more  approvingly  and 
practically  consent  to  that  view  of  the  present 
life,  w^hich  the  Scriptures  give,  as  designed  to 
be  a  state  of  labour  and  conflict.  And  so,  in 
every  other  instance,  specific  confession,  if  it 
be  heartfelt,  will  be  succeeded  by  specific  peti- 
tion :  and  each  may,  in  secret,  be  far  more 
detailed  than  the  hints  w^hich  have  now  been 
given ;  because  of  course,  it  is  not  the  object  of 
these  general  reflections  to  enter  upon  individual 
and  actual  examples.  It  should  also  be  remem- 
bered that  prayer,  besides  its  direct  efficacy,  is 
undoubtedly  productive  of  indirect  good;  as 
being  the  most  eolemn  kind  of  meditation,  the 


SHOULD    BE    SPECIFIC.  103 

most  serious  review  of  our  strong  reasons  for 
gratitude,  submission,  and  diligence  in  "well 
doing,"  and  of  the  various  moral  and  spiritual 
evils  which  we  have  to  resist;  involving  a 
resolution  practically  to  foster  the  one  class  of 
habits,  and  to  oppose  the  other.  But  this 
indirect  advantage  of  devotion  must  wholly 
depend  on  its  specific  character ;  and  therefore, 
it  may  be  added,  must  chiefly  attach  to  that 
which  is  secret. 

We  can  easily  conceive  of  great  direct  efh- 
cacy  in  the  briefest  and  most  general  prayer,  if 
offered  with  the  w^hole  heart;  but  to  obtain 
those  indirect  benefits,  there  must  be  a  distinct 
recollection  of  the  blessings  which  are  to  be 
appreciated,  and  the  duties  which  are  to  be 
pursued.  Above  all,  there  must  be  a  clear  re- 
cognition of  the  evil  tempers  to  be  subdued, 
the  temptations  to  be  resisted,  the  occasions  to 
be  shunned,  the  passions  to  be  moderated  or 
controlled.  It  is  only  when  thus  conducted, 
that  secret  worship  can  be  in  the  highest  sense 
a  profitable  and  reasonable  service,  whether  we 
regard  its  primary  aim,  or  its  general  tendency. 
It  will  then  be  most  remote  from  "  vain  repeti- 
tions," most  reverential  towards  the  God  who 
heareth  prayer,  and  most  beneficial  to  ourselves. 


104  PREVALENCE    OF    GOOD. 


XIII. 

ON  AIMING  AT  LARGE  VIEWS  OF  THE  PREVALENCE 
OF  GOOD  IN  THE  UNIVERSE,  AS  DEDUCIBLE  FROM 
THE  REVEALED  PERFECTIONS  OF  ITS  AUTHOR. 

If  the  Scottish  "  minstrel"  boy,  w^hose  genius 
and  sensibihty  have  been  so  attractively  deli- 
neated by  Beattie,  (himself  perhaps  partly  the 
model  of  the  character  he  drev/,)  had  been  born 
and  bred  up  on  a  ground-floor,  in  one  of  the 
closest  and  narrowest  passages  of  the  Scottish 
capital,  detained  by  some  cruel  guardian  in 
perpetual  servitude  at  a  sedentary  trade,  sur- 
rounded by  dismal  and  repulsive  objects,  and 
purposely  kept  in  deep  ignorance  of 


-"  the  boundless  store 


Of  charms  which  Nature  to  her  votary  yields ;" 

we  can  suppose  what  a  confused  desire  and 
melancholy  veneration  would  have  possessed 
his  mind,  as  he  saw  the  sun  and  moon  and 
stars,  crossing  by  turns  that  narrow  section  of 
the  pure  sky,  which  was  visible  between  the 
dark  and  towering  walls  around  him.  Imagine 
him  then,  on  some  happy  night,  suddenly  libe- 


PREVALErsCE    OF    GOOD.  105 

rated,  and  conducted  before  dawn  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  mountain  which  overlooks  the  city 
and  the  surrounding  country ;  there,  in  full  free- 
dom, to  view  the  day  breaking  on  the  whole 
expanse  of  the  heavens,  the  river  magnificently 
widening  to  the  sea,  its  bordering  towns  and 
busy  navigation,  the  noble  city  beneath  him, 
and  the  varied  plains  and  woods,  mountains 
and  islands,  which  combine  to  form  that  great 
panorama;  and  think  what  a  new  conception 
of  nature  and  art,  what  a  tide  of  delight  and 
wonder,  would  rush  into  his  spirit  at  the  sight ! 
— But  is  not  this,  in  some  sort,  an  emblem, 
though  a  very  imperfect  one,  of  the  contrast  of 
a  Christian's  present  and  approaching  state,  as 
to  his  view  of  the  spiritual  creation  ?  We  are 
here  on  earth  confined  in  a  narrow  scene, 
which  sin  has  pervaded ;  doomed  by  our  fallen 
and  mortal  condition,  to  see  and  converse  with 
nothing  earthly,  but  what  this  bane  of  happiness 
has,  in  some  measure,  touched  with  its  contami- 
nating influence.  There  is,  indeed,  through  the 
great  mercy  of  God,  a  pure  and  heavenly  light 
of  divine  knowledge,  glancing  on  us  from  above, 
(if  we  will  but  raise  the  mental  eye  to  meet  it,) 
amidst  all  this  moral  gloom,  and  through  the 
hazy  atmosphere  of  ignorance  and  depravation. 
But  when  we  shall  be  suddenlv  borne  awav,  each 


106  PREVALENCE    OF    GOOD. 

through  some  one  of  the  thousand  dark  avenues 
of  death,  to  a  wide  and  free  survey  of  the  spirit- 
ual world,  will  not  the  astonishing  and  transport- 
ing contrast  be  incomparably  greater,  than  that 
which  would  delight  the  captive  minstrel  boy  ? 
In  the  meanwhile,  let  it  not  be  forgotten,  that 
the    spiritual   light   of   revelation,   which    has 
reached  our  minds,  is  a  much  more  informing 
light  as  to  the  prevailing  character  of  the  spi- 
ritual universe,  than  the  natural  light  could  be 
to    that   youth,  while   so  immured,  as  to  the 
character  and  aspect  of  the  material  world. 
Revelation  has,  in  some  degree,  though  in  a 
highly  figurative   manner,  intimated  to  us  the 
glories  and  felicities  of  other  regions ;  but,  (and 
this  is  far  more  important  than  any  such  inti- 
mations,) it  has  made  us  acquainted  with  the 
moral  perfections  of  God ;  with  that  sovereign 
and  infinite  principle  of  good,  which  is  greater 
than  the   universe,  and  which   must  eternally 
forbid  that  evil  should  predominate,  or,  in  any 
large  and  relative  sense,  abound. 

It  is  not  to  be  concealed,  that  the  whole 
volume  of  revelation, — whether  it  proclaims  the 
hatred  of  the  Supreme  Being  to  sin,  or  relates 
his  past  judgments  against  transgressors,  or 
denounces  his  threatenings  for  the  future,  or 
above  all,  declares  that  amazing  sacrifice,  by 


PREVALENCE    OF    GOOD.  107 

which  his  judicial  indignation  against  guilt  has 
been  manifested, — does  unfold  a  far  more  awful 
view  of  the  nature  of  moral  evil,  and  the  misery 
of  its  unprevented  results,  and  consequently,  of 
the  spiritual  state  of  a  world  which  has  "  be- 
come guilty  before  God,"  than  was  or  could 
have  been  discovered  by  the  depraved  reason 
or  conscience  of  man.  But  then  it  should  be 
ever  and  attentively  recollected,  that  the  very 
same  record  by  which  this  melancholy  state  of 
mankind,  as  partakers  of  a  ruined  nature,  and 
obnoxious  to  condemnation,  is  unfolded,  reveals 
likewise,  (and  alone  reveals  fully,)  that  infinite 
moral  perfection  of  the  Maker  and  Preserver  of 
all  things,  from  which  we  cannot  but  infer  the 
greatest  possible  perfection  in  his  works  and 
designs.  It  should  be  considered  that  we  have 
not  a  whit  more  revealed  evidence,  nor  other 
or  stronger  scriptural  testin\ony  of  the  deep 
malignity  of  sin,  and  the  dreadful  penalties 
which  the  unpardoned  sinner  will  suffer,  than 
we  have  of  the  infinite  holiness,  goodness,  love, 
and  happiness  of  Him  that  ruleth  over  all; 
whence  it  is  unavoidable  to  infer  an  immense,* 

*  Although  the  word  immense  is  used  by  some  of  the  best 
writers  as  convertible  with  infinite,  yet  as  it  may  well  bear 
the  lower  sense,  of  tliat  which  is  unmeasured  or  not  measu- 
rable by  us,  (which  seems  also  to  be  its  popular  acceptation,) 


108  PREVALEXCE  OF  GOOD. 

if  not  infinite  preponderance  of  good,  and  that 
for  ever,  in  the  universe  which  he  rules.  Indeed, 
the  terrible  fact  itself,  that  sin,  and  its  conse- 
quent misery,  are  so  repugnant  to  the  will  and 
government  of  God,  as  to  have  needed  and 
received  an  infinite  atonement,  involves  the 
conclusion,  that  sin  and  misery,  even  as  intro- 
duced into  this  minute  portion  of  his  works, 
form  a  dreadful  infraction  of  the  universal 
order,  a  tremendous  anomaly  in  itself,  though 
permitted  for  the  wisest  and  most  benevolent 
end,  and,  for  aught  we  know,  indispensable  to  the 
greatest  final  good.  We  have,  therefore,  strong 
reason  to  be  confident,  that  the  entrance  of  sin 
and  misery  is  a  mysterious  exception  to  the  pre- 
vaiUng  perfection  and  stability  of  moral  beings. 
Since  ihe  Deity,  as  revealed  to  us  in  his  word, 
has  all  natural  and  moral  perfections,  (that  is  to 
say,  all  the  attributes  which  constitute  and  pro- 
duce happiness),  it  is  inconceivable  that  the 
sentient  creation,  as  a  whole,  should  not  ulti- 
mately, as  to  the  sum  of  natural  and  moral 
good  or  happiness,  correspond,  in  the  highest 
possible  degree,  to  the  character  of  Him  who 
formed  and  upholds  it.     The  moral  evil  which 

I  have  in  the  present  piece  made  this  use  of  it,  and  of  its 
derivatives. 


PllE7ALE??CE    OF    GOOD.  109 

exists,  is,  indeed,  a  mighty  mass  to  us,  who 
see  nothing  on  earth  that  appears  to  be  un- 
mingled  with  it,  or  wholly  unaffected  by  it ; 
and  could  we  much  more  clearly  apprehend  its 
extent,  and  its  depth,  in  human  society  and 
human  hearts,  and  estimate  its  penal  conse- 
quences, it  would  then  be  a  sight  insupportable 
to  our  limited  minds.  He  who  sees  a  volcano 
showering  its  ashes  on  his  native  city,  or  a 
cloud  of  locusts,  twenty  leagues  in  breadth, 
darkening  the  whole  sky,  and  spreading  famine 
through  the  plains,  will  not  easily  reflect  with 
attention  and  pleasure  on  the  safety  of  a  thou 
sand  other  cities,  or  the  unravaged  fertility  and 
plenty  of  whole  regions  and  continents.  But 
difficult  as  it  is — while  we  look  on  a  "  world 
that  lieth  in  wickedness,"  and  a  whole  terres- 
trial creation  participating  its  penal  effects — 
to  expatiate,  in  fixed  and  rejoicing  thought, 
over  a  pure  and  happy  universe,  yet  faith  and 
reason  may  rest  assured  from  the  revealed 
character  of  God,  that  the  sum  of  evil  can  be 
relatively  but  minute,  being  certainly  the  least 
possible.  And  should  any  one,  professing  a 
steadfast  belief  in  the  moral  perfections  of  the 
Deity,  assume  (in  the  total  absence  of  scrip- 
tural proofs  or  intimations)  that  this  least  pos- 
sible sum  of  evil  in  the  universe  may  yet  be 
10 


110  PREVALENCE    OF    GOOD. 

great,  relatively  to  the  amount  of  good,  the 
assumption  would  not  only  be  devoid  of  all 
ground  of  credibility,  but  would  involve  (as  I 
apprehend)  a  gloomy  speculative  profaneness. 

Let  us  then  aim  at  the  widest  views;  for 
they  are  the  most  effectual  to  cheer  and  sustain 
the  meditative  mind.  Unless  we  habitually 
seek  to  measure  the  superabundance  of  good, 
almost  by  the  infinitude  of  its  Author, — we  are 
in  danger  of  being  "  shaken  and  troubled,"  by 
the  apparent  magnitude  and  probable  effects  of 
evil.  But  if  we  could  steadfastly  adopt  and 
maintain  this  just  view  of  things,  evil  would 
become  a  sort  of  vanishing  quantity.  For 
even  though  the  multitude  of  intelligent  or 
sentient  beings  should  be  not  infinite  (though, 
understanding  that  word  in  the  sense  of  ever- 
growing, or  increasing  without  end,  we  can  be 
no  way  certain  that  it  will  not  be)  ;  and  even 
though  there  were  several  races  of  beings, 
beside  our  own,  subjected  to  moral  and  natural 
evil,  (though  we  can  have  no  right  to  presume 
that  there  are,)  yet  might  the  proportion  of  evil 
to  good,  in  the  whole  of  the  divine  dominions, 
be  but  as  the  smallest  rivulet.to  the  ocean. 

A  Christian,  called,  as  he  evidently  is,  by  his 
Divine  Master's  example  and  command,  to 
reflect  deeply  on  the  evil  that  is  in  the  world,  in 


PREVALENCE    OF    GOOD.  Ill 

order  to  shun  its  influence,  to  escape  its  effects, 
and  to  aim  at  the  diminution  of  it,  will  be  liable 
to  receive  too  gloomy  and  disheartening  an 
impression  from  the  view  of  its  wide  dominion, 
unless  he  can  launch  forth  into  contemplations 
of  a  contrary  character,  which  are  far  more 
wide  and  vast. 

Should  one  of  our  female  philanthropists, 
from  a  misjudging  devotedness  to  her  object, 
instead  of  visiting  the  prison  and  the  hospital, 
bind  herself  to  constant  residence  within  one  of 
these,  (as  nuns  within  their  convents,)  it  is  hardly 
to  be  doubted,  that  a  more  oppressive  sense  of 
human  wretchedness  and  calamity  would  weigh 
upon  her  mind.  It  would  be  more  and  more 
necessary  to  correct  this  feehng,  by  a  frequent 
effort  of  reflection  on  the  great  excess  of  health 
and  freedom  over  disease  and  bondage,  which 
is  found  in  the  whole  city,  or  the  whole  country. 

And  we,  who,  at  the  dictate  of  revelation, 
contemplate  the  world  in  which  we  dwell,  as  a 
great  infirmary,  where  the  fatal  cases  exceed 
the  happy  cures — have,  surely,  need  to  coun- 
teract the  feeling  which  this  situation  prompts, 
by  all  the  resources  which  the  same  revelation 
yields.  It  is  probable,  that  superior  and  happy 
beings  regard  this  abode  into  which  evil  has 
entered,  and  that  abode  where  sin  is  punished. 


112  PREVALENCE    OF    GOOD. 

as  we  should  regard  a  solitary  hospital  and 
prison  in  a  vast  and  well-ordered  and  flourish- 
ing capital ;  though,  indeed,  with  this  most  joy- 
ful difference,  that  in  the  other  countless  mansions 
which  they  visit  or  behold,  throughout  the 
immeasurable  "  city  of  the  living  God,"  they 
witness,  not  a  partial,  but  a  total  exclusion  of 
moral  evil. 

The  astronomy  which  has  developed  the 
incalculable  magnitude  of  creation,  is,  in  this 
view,  auxiliary  to  our  faith ;  for,  in  proportion 
as  our  knowledge  is  enlarged,  as  to  the  actual 
vastness  of  the  divine  works,  we  discover,  so 
far,  a  corresporifl ence  between  the  facts  in  the 
existing  universe  around  us,  and  the  inferences 
we  would  draw  from  the  revelation  of  the 
divine  character. 

Had  the  stars  been  neither  mentioned  in 
Scripture,  nor  visible  in  nature,  still,  from  the 
moral  perfection  of  the  Deity,  which  is  dis- 
tinctly revealed,  we  should  be  led  to  believe  in 
an  immense  predominance  of  happiness  some- 
where ; — but,  seeing  a  host  of  heavenly  worlds, 
and  learning  that  their  number  is  beyond  all 
computing,  we  make  one  grand  advance  to- 
wards our  conclusion,  on  the  ground  of  ocular 
and  mathematical  proof.  Faith  is  relieved,  as 
it  were,  from  its  work  of  creation.    The  mighty 


PREVALENCK    OF    GOOD.  113 

structure  of  innumerable  worlds  is  before  us. 
Divine  wisdom  and  power  have  actually  done 
what  we  otherwise  should  only  have  judged 
they  would  do ;  nay,  the  boldest  conception  of 
faith,  or  of  fancy,  would  never  have  gone  a  ten- 
thousandth  part  so  far  as  the  fact  carries  us. 
Here  is  ample  room,  then,  in  the  actual  works 
of  the  Deity,  for  a  preponderance  of  happiness 
which  may  well  be  called  to  our  feeble  appre- 
hension, infinite.  The  Deity  is  "just"  and 
"  holy" — "  good"  and  "  gracious,"  yea — "  God 
is  Love:"  while  we  believe  this,  (and  be  it 
remembered,  that  when  we  cease  to  do  so,  all 
belief  in  revelation  fails,)  it  is  impossible  not  to 
believe  that  such  an  immense  preponderance  of 
happiness  is  both  produced  and  secured. 

This  vastness  of  the  works  of  God  also  evi- 
dently magnifies  the  love  and  condescension  of 
their  Author,  in  interposing,  even  by  his  provi- 
dence, (much  more  by  the  astonishing  method  of 
redemption,)  on  behalf  of  our  fallen  world; 
which,  had  it  been  annihilated  in  its  state  of 
moral  ruin,  might  have  been,  to  other  beings, 
but  as  a  meteor  gliding  into  darkness,  from 
amidst  the  multitudinous  grandeur  of  the  hea- 
vens. And  when  we  consider  the  ultimate,  and 
even  the  present  efficacy  of  that  marvellous 
interposition,  towards  the  recovery  and  salva- 
10* 


114  PREVALENCE    OF    GOOD. 

tion  of  mankind,  as  far  more  extensive  than 
some  persons  can  allow  themselves  to  hope,  we 
dissipate,  in  part,  the  gloom  even  of  this  world's 
prospect. 

It  is  not,  however,  this  world's  state  or  pros- 
}^ct  to  which  \ve  should  confine  ourselves,  or 
on  w^iich  we  have  now  sought  to  dwell.  It  is 
a  scene  immensely  greater ;  and  to  that  greater, 
that  universal  view,  it  is  the  proper  tendency  of 
every  devotional  engagement  to  exalt  us.  For 
whenever  we  pray,  we  have  always  for  the 
grand  object  of  thought,  (if  our  thoughts  be 
truly  elevated  and  expanded  towards  the  per- 
fections of  Him  whom  we  v/orship,)  an  infi- 
nitely good  and  infinitely  happy  Creator; — 
why  not  also,  as  a  concurring  or  proximate 
object  of  thought,  that  w^hich  is  necessarily 
to  be  inferred  from  the  idea  of  such  a  Crea- 
tor, the  utmost  possible  sum  of  goodness  and 
happiness  in  his  creation  ?  We  should  be  deeply 
grateful  for  that  revelation,  which  assures  us 
of  the  moral  perfection  of  God.  Without  it, 
although  our  knowledge  of  sin  and  its  deserts 
would  be  far  less  painfully  distinct,  we  should 
be  left  in  a  dreadful  uncertainty  as  to  the  ex- 
tent and  duration  of  evil.  We  could  not  dis- 
prove that  it  prevails  in  all  parts  of  the  creation, 
and  that  it  will  everywhere  and  continually  aug- 


PREVALENCE  OF  GOOD.  115 

ment.  We  should,  indeed,  know  much  less  of 
(what  the  human  mind  has  so  great  a  repug- 
nance to  admit) — the  malignant  essence  of  evil, 
its  contrariety  to  the  divine  nature  and  will ; 
but  therefore,  (on  that  very  account,)  we  could 
not  know  that  its  dominion  is  limited,  and  that 
good  immensely  preponderates. 

Deists  may  offer  strong  arguments  in  proof 
of  a  certain  kind  of  divine  perfection ;  but 
there  is  no  ground  to  believe  that  they  who 
altogether  reject  revelation  have  real  confi- 
dence in  the  moral  attributes  of  Deity ;  and 
it  follows  that  they  must  remain  either  in  fear- 
ful doubt,  or  stupid  thoughtlessness,  as  to  the 
ultimate  issues  of  good  and  ill. 

A  Christian,  on  the  contrary,  may  confidently 
regard  all  the  evil,  which  is,  or  can  be  per- 
mitted by  a  God  of  hoUness  and  love,  as  indis- 
pensably conducive  to  the  production  and 
maintenance  of  a  good  that  will  incomparably 
overbalance  it.  He  sees  in  the  works  of  Christ, 
in  his  perfect  rectitude,  purity,  and  benevolence, 
an  "  image"  of  the  perfections  "  of  the  invisible 
God;"  he  has  been  taught  by  the  words  of 
Christ,  that  the  Divine  goodness  so  transcends 
that  of  all  creatures,  as  to  be  in  fact  the  only 
essential  goodness ;  "  None  is  good,  save  one, 
that  is  God." 


116  PREVALENCE    OF    GOOD. 

From  these  assurances  of  Him,  who  is  One 
with  the  Father,  and  who  attested  his  words  by 
miracles  of  goodness,  tlie  Christian  may,  I 
tliink,  without  presumption  conclude,  that  if  the 
universe,  viewed  by  prescience  in  its  whole 
extent  and  duration,  had  not  been  foreseen  to 
contain  an  incomparable  excess  of  good,  the 
eternally  good  and  blessed  God  would  never 
liave  been  its  Creator. 

We  know  that  the  follower  of  Christ  cannot, 
in  one  sense,  be  too  much  occupied  with  the 
existence  of  moral  evil ;  he  cannot  too  strenu- 
ously oppose  and  contend  against  it,  in  himself 
and  others,  nor  can  he  have  any  spring  of 
action  so  truly  identical  with  that  which  reigned 
in  the  soul  of  his  Saviour,  as  a  pure  desire  of 
preventing  or  counteracting  its  diversified  ef- 
fects. Yet,  in  contemplation,  it  is  his  duty 
often  to  *'  turn  aside,"  and  see  a  far  greater 
sight ;  to  anticipate  the  period  when  evil  shall 
not  only  be  extinguished  in  himself,  but  shall 
for  ever  cease  to  be  prominent,  perhaps  even  to 
be  perceptible,  in  his  view  of  the  creation ;  and 
to  lose  all  his  present  partial  views  in  that  **  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight"  of  glory 
and  blessedness,  which  will  be  as  exhaustless 
as  the  perfection  of  Him  that  "  filleth  all  in  all." 


TORPOR    AS    TO    SPIRITUAL    OBJECTS.  117 


XIV. 

ON  TORPOR  OF  MIND  WITH   REGARD  TO  SPIRITUAL 
OBJECTS  AMD  INTERESTS. 

When  is  it  most  necessary  f(>r  me  to  meditate 
on  things  spiritual?  precisely  when  I  have 
least  inchnation  and  abihty  to  do  so ;  when  1 
take  up  the  Scriptures,  or  a  book  of  piety,  with 
ahnost  as  htllo  rcHsfi  as  I  should  a  treatise  of 
mensuration;  when  I  seem  unimpressible  by 
what  is  exalted,  or  remote,  or  refined ;  when 
the  mind  is  little  better  than  the  mere  instru- 
ment of  the  animal,  instead  of  the  animal  powers 
and  organs  being  the  mere  instruments  of  the 
spirit.  This,  to  one  that  has  known  and  felt 
anything  of  its  opposite,  is  a  humiliating  and 
comfortless  state  of  the  understanding  and 
affections.  What  can  account  for  it,  but  that 
prone  and  servile  tendency  of  the  human  soul, 
induced  by  its  fall  from  original  rectitude? 
For,  \>y  the  sui)position,  this  is  not  a  state  of 
ignorance,  nor  is  it,  properly  speaking,  a  state 
of  unbelief,  as  to  the  reality  and  excellency 
of  spiritual  objects ;  since,  were  it  either  of 
these,  there  could  be  in  it  no  conscious  unhap- 


118  TORPOR    AS    TO 

piness  or  degradation.  It  is,  in  fact,  far  other- 
wise. The  immensity  and  majesty  of  nature- 
have  been  familiar  to  my  eye,  and  the  glorious 
secrets  which  the  universe  must  have  to  unfold, 
have  been  contemplated  with  awful  curiosity. 
The  proofs  of  its  incomprehensible  Author's 
being  and  perfections  have  approved  them- 
selves to  my  reason  and  my  conscience.  The 
vastness  and  condescension  of  his  revealed  love 
have  overwhelmed  my  thoughts.  The  possible 
discoveries  of  an  endless  life  have  oppressed  me 
wdth  their  undisclosed  multitude  and  grandeur, 
and  this  little  theatre  of  sense  has  seemed  to 
shrink  into  nothing. — And  am  I  yet  now  com- 
pelled to  say,  with  an  application  of  the  phrase 
sadly  contrary  to  the  connexion  in  which  the 
apostle  uses  it,  "None  of  these  things  move 
me?"  How  contrary  this  to  the  proper  bias 
of  that  new  and  heavenly  nature,  wliich  the 
Scriptures  ascribe  to  the  children  of  God? — I 
am  like  a  traveller  who  has  passed  along  the 
Apennine  ridge,  sometimes  gazing  on  the  far- 
empurpled  sky;  now  on  the  vast  masses  of 
southern  foliage  below,  and  a  bright  river  divid- 
ing the  extended  valley;  then  on  the  calm  lake 
or  boundless  ocean  stretching  beyond,  and  who 
exclaims,  w^ith  a  glowing  heart.  How  delightful, 
iiow  magnificent !     But  soon  afterwards  he  finds 


SPIRITUAL    OBJECTS.  110 

himself  enveloped  in  the  chill  vapour  of  the 
malaria,  and  looks  in  vain  through  the  noxious 
mist,  for  all  the  w^onders  and  glories  of  that 
splendid  prospect.  There  is  danger  for  the 
traveller,  not  only  from  the  unwholesome  air 
through  which  he  passes,  but  lest,  forgetting  the 
refined  enjoyments  of  other  hours,  he  should 
seek  amends  in  sensuality,  for  the  lost  pleasures 
of  contemplation.  But  there  is,  in  one  view^, 
more  danger  for  me ;  because,  in  his  case,  the 
concealment  of  the  objects  does  not  take  away 
or  impair  the  conviction  of  their  reahty.  But 
in  mine,  there  is  a  sort  of  doubting,  though  not 
disbehef,  induced  by  the  want  of  mental  percep- 
tion. Suspended  apprehension,  respecting  spi- 
ritual or  "  unseen"  objects,  is  very  much  allied 
to  doubt. 

If  it  be  possible  for  a  rcasoner,  by  dint  of 
subtleties,  to  bring  into  question,  as  the  estima- 
ble but  paradoxical  Bishop  Berkeley  did,  the 
existence  of  "  the  things  which  are  seen,"  how 
much  more  easy  is  it,  through  a  cessation  of  the 
mind's  acting  upon  objects  of  mere  intellect,  to 
lose  all  realising  sense  of  "  the  things  which  are 
not  seen !"  There  may  be,  and  is,  no  actual, 
at  least,  no  abiding  disbelief  in  either  case. 
Bishop  Berkeley,  it  is  presumed,  coiild,  only  in  a 
very  occasional  state  of  high  abstraction  from 


120  TORPOR    AS    TO 

the  influence  of  material  things,  seriously  feel 
as  if  that  opinion  were  credible,  which  his  dia- 
logues maintain ;  and  it  is  only  in  the  state  ex- 
actly opposite,  viz.,  that  of  absorption  in  material 
things,  (when  the  appetites  and  varying  states 
of  the  body,  or  thoughts  only  terminating  on 
what  is  earthly,  quell  and  suppress  the  higher 
action  of  the  soul,)  that  we  are  dead  to  the 
impression  of  what  is  spiritual.  But  from  the 
lamentable  readiness  with  which,  in  our  degene- 
rate condition,  w^e  take  impressions  and  even 
laws  from  sense,  this  last  is  a  common  and 
natural  state;  while  that  of  Berkeley,  if  he 
really  doubted,  or  imagined  himself  to  doubt 
the  existence  of  matter,  has  been,  probably, 
unparalleled  in  any  sane  mind.  If  I  conclude, 
that  he  never  could  be  under  this  illusion,  it 
equally  serves  the  present  purpose  to  suppose, 
that  some  student  of  his  system,  whose  sanity 
need  not  be  contended  for,  sometimes  really 
was  under  it.  There  is,  we  too  well  know,  a 
contrary  unsoundness  of  mind,  which,  though  it 
excites  no  wonder  and  no  ridicule  in  a  sensual 
world,  is  in  truth  infinitely  more  to  be  deplored : 
that  of  feeling  as  if  things  spiritual  had  no  exist- 
ence. The  herds  of  Babylon  might  naturally 
cease  to  wonder,  if  they  ever  wondered  at  all, 
that  the  king  should  take   "his  portion  with 


SPIRITUAL    OBJECTS.  121 

ihem  in  the  grass  of  the  earth,  and  have  his 
body  wet  with  the  dew  of  heaven;"  but  an 
angel,  ever  bhssfully  awake  to  the  reaUties  and 
glories  of  the  spiritual  universe,  probably  re- 
gards the  "  brutish  persons"  who  are  dead  to 
these,  with  more  astonishment  and  compassion 
than  I  should  regard  that  visionary,  who  might 
feel  as  if  the  material  world  were  non-existent. 
No  doubt  these  remarks  apply  most  strongly  to 
such  as  are  manifestly  not  "  renewed  in  the 
spirit  of  their  mind,"  who  are  altogether  what 
the  apostle  Paul  denominates  natural  or  animal 
men ;  but  still  they  apply,  in  a  degree,  to  that 
temporary  and  partial  insensibility,  which  it  is 
presumed  every  Christian  sometimes  feels. 

And  what,  as  a  means,  (in  the  hope  of  divine 
aid  and  influence,)  is  likely  to  remove  this  ? 

If  the  deluded  follower  of  Berkeley  had  ar- 
rived at  such  a  point  of  self-deception  in  his 
study,  as  to  feel  some  repugnance  to  eat  or 
walk,  or  to  have  little  fear  of  a  precipice,  from 
imagining  these  acts  and  objects  unreal,  what 
would  be  the  fittest  remedy  for  him?  Not,  I 
conceive,  to  take  a  general  and  distant  view  of 
nature,  even  in  its  most  striking  scenes — but  to 
lift  some  hard  and  massive  body,  to  make  proof 
of  some  highly  pungent  taste,  to  try  the  point 
of  some  sharp  instrument. 
11 


122  TORPOR    AS    TO 

Have  we  any  resources  similar  to  these, 
when  we  would  seek  to  revive  the  deadened 
apprehension  of  spiritual  things'?  They,  it  is 
evident,  cannot  be  corporeally  tasted,  touched, 
or  handled.  But  there  are  two  ways  of  men- 
tally viewing  them,  which  have  some  analogy 
to  the  two  ways  of  being  conversant  with  ma- 
terial things,  that  were  just  mentioned. — I  may 
attempt  to  contemplate  the  most  sublime,  illi- 
mitable and  remote  spiritual  objects,  to  medi- 
tate on  the  nature  and  Vv'orks  of  the  Deity,  on 
the  person  of  Christ,  on  the  day  of  judgment, 
on  "  the  eternal  states  of  all  the  dead  ;"  and  all 
these  things,  momentous  as  they  are,  may  (with- 
out being  disbelieved)  appear,  in  the  carnalized 
state  of  mind  to  which  we  have  referred,  as 
immense  indeed,  but  shadowy  and  almost  doubt- 
ful visions,  which  have  no  power  to  excite  emo- 
tion.— Let  me  rather  try,  therefore,  without 
looking  abroad  into  the  vast  field  of  spiritual 
existence,  to  fix  on  a  single  point,  and  that  the 
nearest.  Let  me  return,  with  Descartes  and 
Fenelon,  to  the  first  point  of  spiritual  knowledge 
— "  I  think ;  therefore  I  am."  I  will  not  use  it 
for  the  same  purpose  that  they  did,  or  to  deduce 
thence  the  proof  of  an  infinite  and  perfect  being  ; 
but  for  the  purpose  of  intently  recognising  my 
own  consciousness.     This  consciousness  is  one. 


SPIRITUAL    OBJECTS.  123 

It  is  not  divisible  or  dissoluble,  like  the  material 
organs  which  it  actuates,  and  which  will  so 
soon  be  dissolved.  When  a  few  years  have 
passed,  the  whole  frame  will  sink  into  irre- 
mediable helplessness ;  the  last  pulses  will  beat, 
the  last  respiration  cease,  the  particles  so  won- 
derfully combined  into  organic  life  will  be  sepa- 
rated. Even  they,  however,  will  be  only  sepa- 
rated,— not  destroyed.  "  We  have  no  reason  to 
believe,"  (say  the  philosophers,)  "  that  matter 
perishes,  but  only  changes  its  form."  "  There 
is  no  evidence  of  the  destruction  of  anything 
since  the  universe  was  formed."  But  my  con- 
sciousness, which  is  not  composed  of  parts, 
cannot  be  separated.  And  if  matter  which  has 
parts,  which  is  infinitely  divisible,  which  is 
actually  divided,  be  not  destroyed,  how  much 
less  that  consciousness,  which  is  one  and  indi- 
visible !  To  annihilate,  is,  for  aught  we  know, 
as  much  a  divine  and  incommunicable  preroga- 
tive, as  to  create ;  nor  have  w^e  the  slightest 
evidence,  direct  or  presumptive,  that  this  pre- 
rogative has  ever  been  exercised  on  one  mate- 
rial particle,  or  one  spiritual  essence.  When 
this  frame  is  dissolved,  therefore,  as  it  soon 
inevitably  must  be,  my  consciousness  will  still 
subsist.  I,  who  think,  shall  be ; — shall  be  some- 
where :  shall  reflect ;  shall  feel ;  shall  be  either 


124  TORPOR    AS    TO 

happy  or  unhappy. — It  is  a  striking  thought  of 
a  foreign  writer,  that  even  atheism  cannot  de- 
monstrate to  itself,  on  its  own  principles,  that 
there  will  be  no  future  and  ever-during  misery. 
As  little,  surely,  can  that  vague  and  Epicurean 
sort  of  deism  do  it,  which  forgets  God,  or  asks 
itself  secretly,  Does  God  indeed  see  and  regard  ? 
Yet  this  is  virtually  the  state  of  the  Christian's 
mind,  whenever  its  actings  are  sinful.  Even 
could  this  questioning  be  unhappily  converted 
into  a  well-founded  affirmation ;  could  it  be 
shown  that  the  proofs  of  God's  holy  providence 
are  fallacious ;  this  dreadful  argument  would 
not  at  all  involve  the  consequence  that  the  spirit 
is  destroyed,  w^hile  the  parts  of  the  body  are 
only  dissolved  and  changed ;  or  that  it  has 
parts  which  may  also  be  dissolved ;  or  that  its 
consciousness,  in  a  new  state,  will  not  be  un- 
happy. 

The  resort  to  this  kind  of  reasoning  does  not 
imply  either  distrust  or  depreciation  of  that 
testimony  which  the  Gospel  yields  both  to  the 
character  of  the  Deity  and  "  the  life  of  the 
w^orld  to  come."  It  is  intended  for  those  mo- 
ments when  external  reasons  of  behef  and 
expectation,  however  powerful,  do  not  move 
the  mind.  It  is  intended,  likewise,  to  endear  the 
assurances  and  offers  of  revelation,  by  impress- 


SPIRITUAL    OBJECTS.  125 

ing  that  awful  prospect  of  an  unknown  futurity 
of  being.  For  whatever  depraved  or  listless 
torpor  lulls  my  spirit  now,  that  surprising  instant 
will  arrive,  surely  and  soon,  that  instant  of 
miraculous  change,  the  first  of  a  new  mode  of 
being !  Can  I  easily  revert  in  recollection  to 
the  hours  of  early  childhood,  when  my  present 
mode  of  being  was  new ;  and  is  it  much  less 
easy  to  anticipate  the  latest  moments  of  this, 
the  awful  verge  of  another  ? — Am  I  not,  mean- 
while, consciously  amenable  to  an  inward  law  1 
Is  not  the  sense  of  moral  good  and  evil,  of  con- 
sequent weal  or  woe,  more  indelibly  fixed  in  my 
spirit  than  words  imprinted  "  with  an  iron 
graver,  in  the  rock,"  or  on  crystal  "  with  the 
point  of  a  diamond  ?"  What  is  it  but  the  never- 
dying  echo  of  the  eternal  voice  ?  These  things 
are  fully  as  sure  as  any  thing  material  and 
external,  any  object  of  sensation,  and  they  are 
incomparably  more  intimate  and  unchangeable. 
But  if  I  be  truly  awakened  to  these,  if  I  fore- 
think  this  approaching  entrance  into  an  untried 
state  of  consciousness,  which  must  be  either 
holy  or  depraved,  which  must  excite  unmea- 
sured joy  or  unutterable  disappointment — can  I, 
under  such  expectations,  remain  indifferent  to 
the  message  of  salvation,  to  the  deeds  and 
words  of  an  Almighty  Redeemer  ?  Thus,  then, 
11* 


12Q  IXTESCESSION    OF    CHBIST. 

let  me  seek  to  arouse  the  domiant  perception 
of  spiritual  realities,  commencing  the  sur^-ey 
at  home,  contemplating  the  mysterious  immor- 
tal inm.ate  of  my  bosom.  Hence  let  me  ascend 
towards  the  throne  of  Him  who  is  hid  from 
mortal  sight ;  hence  fly  to  the  cross  of  Him 
who  stooped  to  mortal  son*ow^s.  But,  O  Thou 
Spirit  of  Holiness,  who  succourest  mortal 
weakness,  do  Thou  communicate  to  my  soul 
the  vividness  of  solemn  thought,  the  depth  of 
grateful  sentiment,  and  cause  me  by  thy  power 
which  is  alone  sufhcient,  to  "  abound  in  ho[>e." 


XV. 

ox  THE  EXCOURAGEMEX'T  WHICH  THE  IXTERCES 
SIO.\  OF  CHRIST  AFFORDS  TO  PRAYER, 

Vt'hex  I  consider  how  defective,  how  mean, 
and  how  defiled  are  the  most  solemn  of  my 
devotional  services,  I  might  w^ell  despair  of 
their  being  in  any  way  acceptable  to  the  Deity, 
or  procuring  for  me  any  communication  of  his 
niercy  and  favour,  were  it  not  for  the  peculiar 


INTERCESSION    OF    CHBIST.  127 

way  of  access  and  acceptance  revealed.  Not 
only  my  previous  character  as  an  offender,  but 
the  offences  contamed  in  my  acts  of  worship, 
might  suffice  to  defeat  my  hopes,  If  a  peti- 
tioner were  to  approach  the  most  exalted,  bene- 
volent and  venerable  of  men,  without  manifest- 
ing any  due  impression  of  his  dignity  and 
excellence;  if  he  were  visibly  and  audibly  to 
manifest  the  contrary,  by  unseemly  gestures, 
and  by  wandering,  incoherent,  and  even  dis- 
graceful expressions,  mingling  in  every  part  of 
his  professed  supplication ;  if  that  supplication, 
though  not  a  precomposed  form,  were  evideni- 
ly,  in  many  of  its  parts,  mechanical;  a  sort  of 
half-conscious  exercise  of  memory,  combined 
with  vague  desire  ;  while  the  mind  was  chiefly 
occupied  with  the  irrelevant  and  often  base 
imaginations,  wdiich  seemed  interposed  as  in- 
sults to  the  majesty  and  patience  of  the  hearer ; 
— what  should  we  augur  of  the  reception  and 
success  of  such  a  supphant?  Would  not  the 
servants  or  friends  of  the  personage  addressed, 
be  ready  to  remove  the  intruder,  unanswered 
except  by  reproof? — But  my  addresses,  to  One 
who  is  ineffably  more  august  and  venerable 
than  any  created  being,  have  often  correspond- 
ed to  this  description,  and  have  always,  more 
or  less,  partaken  of  this  character.    For  thoughts 


128  IJsTEECESSION    OF    CHRIST. 

and  feelings,  not  expressed  aloud,  are  quite  as 
substantial  and  apparent  before  the  Omniscient 
God,  as  those  which  are  uttered.  They  form, 
undeniably,  as  real  a  part  of  the  action  of  the 
mind,  during  any  act  of  worship,  as  the  confes- 
sions, petitions,  or  adorations,  verbally  pro- 
nounced. What  then  would  be  the  texture  and 
series  of  my  prayers,  if  all  the  ideas  and  emo- 
tions which  arise  during  their  continuance, 
could  be  submitted  to  the  view  of  others,  and 
my  own,  as  they  unquestionably  are  to  the 
view  of  Him  "that  searcheth  the  heart?" 
Would  not  the  irreverent  confusion  and  impi- 
ous intermixture,  of  things  sacred  and  profane, 
solemn  and  trivial,  spiritual  and  carnal,  be 
enough  to  mortify  the  pride  of  a  Stoic,  and 
confound  the  self-righteousness  of  a  Pharisee? 
If  such  a  copy  of  the  acts  of  my  soul,  during 
secret  devotion,  could  be  faithfully  made  and 
set  before  me,  it  would  certainly  confirm,  in  a 
most  humbling  manner,  my  conviction  of  spi- 
ritual weakness  and  depravity,  and  might  justly 
induce  despair  of  such  services  being  well- 
pleasing  to  God,  were  it  not  for  the  consoling 
and  cheering  assurance  that  Jesus  "  ever  liveth 
to  make  intercession  for  us."  "  For  we  have 
not  an  High  Priest  which  cannot  be  touched 
with  the  feehng  of  our  infirmities ;  but  w^as  in 


INTERCESSION    OF    CHRIST.  129 

all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  with- 
out sin."  It  is  in  this  behef  alone,  that  I  can, 
or  ought  to  "  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of 
grace:"  but  with  this  belief,  notwithstanding 
the  experience  and  the  foresight  of  exceeding 
imperfection  and  unworthiness  in  my  offerings, 
I  may  "  have  access  with  confidence."  How 
should  it  endear  this  great  High  Priest  and 
Advocate,  to  think  of  Him  as  pleading  for  the 
gracious  acceptance  of  my  praises,  which,  when 
compared  with,  the  claims  of  the  divine  grace 
and  majesty,  have  been  so  negligent  and  for- 
mal ;  of  my  thanksgivings,  which  have  been  so 
cold ;  of  my  confessions,  which  have  been  so 
seldom  prompted  by  a  deep  and  tender  contri- 
tion; of  my  entreaties,  whose  fervency  has 
borne  no  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
good  besought,  or  of  the  evils  deprecated  ;  of 
my  whole  worship,  which,  as  before  described, 
has  been  often  a  shameful  intermingling  of 
incongruous  and  degrading  thoughts  with  those 
of  piety?  Is  it  presumptuous  to  hope  and 
believe  that  the  divine  Mediator  intercedes  for 
those  who  are  conscious  of  defects  so  great, 
and  offences  so  flagrant,  in  their  approaches  to 
Him  who  "  knovvcth  the  secrets  of  the  heart  ?" 
I  trust  not ;  because  many  of  the  most  devoted 
worshippers  have  confessed  and  deplored  simi- 


130  INTERCESSION    OF    CHRIST. 

lar  defects  and  offences  in  their  attempts  to  wait 
on  God.  And  though  I  cannot  suppose,  that  in 
these  eminent  Christians  they  have  been  by  any 
means  so  habitual  or  so  great  as  in  myself,  I 
am  not  warranted  in  despairing  of  the  accept- 
ableness  of  my  prayers,  on  account  of  the 
deeper  degrees  of  evil  which  I  may  believe  to 
pervade  them.  The  compassionate  aid  and  in- 
tercession of  Christ,  when  on  earth,  were  not 
withdrawn  from  those  disciples  with  whom  he 
had  frequent  reason  to  expostulate  on  account 
of  the  weakness  and  littleness  of  their  faith ; 
and  who,  in  a  season  peculiarly  adapted  to 
excite  their  feelings,  drew  from  him,  by  their 
heaviness  and  stupor,  the  affecting  rebuke, 
"  What !  could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one 
hour?"  These  failures  of  their  faith  and  vigi- 
lance did  not  prevent  his  leaving  wdth  them 
that  animating  promise,  '•  Lo,  I  am  with  you 
always,  even  to  the  end  of  the  world." 

At  the  same  time,  the  hope  that  my  imper- 
fect and  sinful  offerings  are  accepted  through 
this  all-powerful  and  gracious  Intercessor,  can 
never,  surely,  admit  so  fatal  a  perversion,  as  to 
become  a  plea  or  refuge  for  indifference  in  that 
sacred  employment ;  to  place  me  at  ease  in  the 
indulgence  of  wandering  thoughts,  in  a  supine 
or  unsjoverned  state  of  the  faculties  and  affec- 


INTERCESSION    OF    CHRIST.  131 

tions.  Let  me  solemnly  remember,  that,  in 
every  act  of  worship,  whether  public  or  secret, 
there  is  only  so  much  of  prayer  as  the  "  under- 
standing and  the  spirit"  concur  in.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  suppose  that  our  exalted  Saviour,  who 
expressly  declares — "  They  that  worship  God, 
must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth,"  should 
intercede  for  the  acceptance  of  those  parts  of 
our  prayers,  in  which,  though  the  lips  utter 
them,  the  mind  is  not  engaged ;  or  in  which, 
(although  the  memory  and  the  reason,  by  a  con- 
fused kind  of  co-operation,  combine  to  produce 
them  extemporaneously,)  the  desires  and  affec- 
tions are  wholly  unconcerned. 

The  efficacy  of  prayer  must  be  proportioned 
to  the  real  amount  of  sincere  and  true  devotion, 
which  enters  into  any  exercise  of  worship.  If  a 
mass  of  gold  or  silver  ore  be  sent  to  the  refiner, 
he  will  value,  not  the  amount  or  variety  of 
heterogeneous  matter,  but  the  amount  of  pure 
metal  which  is  found  in  it.  He  may  accept 
and  prize  it,  notwithstanding  the  alloys  and 
worthless  substances  with  which  it  is  debased, 
but  it  can  be  accepted  only  at  the  worth  of  the 
separated  bulHon.  It  is  not  meant  to  intimate, 
by  this  comparison,  that  our  prayers,  (were 
they  ten  times  more  unalloyed  than  those  of 
fallen   creatures   can  be,)  would  possess    any 


132  INTERCESSION    OF    CHRIST. 

meritorious  value.  Tiie  mind  and  will,  the 
ability  and  inclination,  for  these,  as  for  all 
other  services,  are  themselves  the  gifts  of  God. 
But  he  has  chosen  to  connect  his  blessings  with 
prayer,  and  encourages  me  to  hope,  that, 
through  the  intercession  of  the  "  One  Media- 
tor," he  will  accept  even  such  prayers  as  mine. 
And  though  they  are  accepted — notwithstand- 
ing these  alloys  and  deplements— yet  the  result 
of  them,  or  the  blessings  to  be  procured  by  them, 
can  only  have  relation  to  the  sum  and  intense- 
ness  of  real  devotion.  So  that  the  hope  that  my 
real  prayers  are  presented,  and  made  availing, 
by  so  glorious  an  Advocate,  should  confer,  in 
my  estimation,  an  immense  importance  on  the 
privilege  of  worship,  and  should  make  mo 
incomparably  more  solicitous,  that  my  prayers 
may  be  real,  and  that  "  out  of  the  abundance  of 
the  heart,  the  mouth  may  speak." 


SENSUAL  INCLINATIONS.  1  HS 


XVI. 

ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  SLOTHFUL  AND  SENSUAL 
INCLINATIONS. 

How  disgraceful  and  wretched  a  subjugation 
is  that  of  the  mind  to  bodily  appetites  and 
propensities !  How  low  and  narrow  must  be 
our  ideas  of  happiness  while  we  act  or  feel 
as  if  mere  sensual  ease  or  animal  indulgence 
could  secure  it !  When  the  spirit  is  "  brought 
into  subjection"  to  the  body,  what  is  its  utmost 
bliss  but  that  of  a  half-slumbering  or  half-besot- 
ted slave  ?  And  what  captivity  so  ignominious 
as  to  be  the  slave  of  one's  ow^n  indolent,  weak, 
disorderly  vassal  I  What  "  servant  of  servants" 
can  wear  a  yoke  more  abject?  Whenever  I 
am  conscious  of  the  downward  tendency  to 
this  worst  of  servitudes,  oppressed  at  once  by 
the  thought  of  its  sinfulness  and  its  degradation, 
urgent,  indeed,  is  the  necessity  of  applying  to 
the  "  Father  of  spirits"  for  strength  to  shake  off 
the  bondage  of  corruption.  Have  I  forgotten 
that  the  blessedness  of  Him,  who  is  independ- 
ently and  supremely  happy,  must  be  purely 
12 


134  SLOTHFUL  AND 

spiritual,  and  that  we  can  conceive  no  remis- 
sion of  blissful  activity  in  the  Eternal  Mind? 
What  then  should  creatures,  oiiginally  made 
"  after  his  likeness,"  endowed  with  spiritual 
faculties  and  desires,  pursue  as  the  best,  the 
only  perfect  and  sufficient  kind  of  enjoyment, 
other  than  that  which  constitutes  the  happiness 
of  their  Creator? 

Never,  when  most  ensnared  in  slothfulness 
and  sensuality  of  heart,  let  me  consent  to  sus- 
pend devotion.  Never  let  me  fail  to  implore, 
with  an  early  and  strenuous  resistance  to  the 
depraved  bias  of  my  mind,  the  renewal  of  that 
"  right  spirit,"  which  alone  is  "  life  and  peace." 
Never  let  the  inebriating  or  stupefying  power  of 
sense  overbear  my  conviction,  that,  under  this 
dominion,  the  very  life  of  life,  the  very  element 
of  heaven,  would  be  extinguished.  Never  let 
me  cease  to  solicit  a  new  and  deeper  impres- 
sion of  those  real  joys,  which  arise  from  near- 
ness and  similitude  and  love  to  "  the  source 
and  centre  of  all  minds."  He  who  made  and 
upholds  all  things,  possesses  within  himself  all 
the  stores  of  happiness  which  are  or  can  be 
dispensed  to  his  creatures.  His  "  loving-kind- 
ness is  better  than  Hfe."  What  comparison 
can  there  be  between  pleasures  in  which  rep- 
tiles partake  and  those  which  flow  immediately 


SENSUAL    INCLINATIONS.  135 

lo  the  rational  and  immortal  soul,  from  the 
infinite  Spirit? 

Even  if  these  sublime  enjoyments,  for  which 
I  pray,  be  not  soon  or  amply  communicated, 
yet  ought  the  very  hope,  or  even  desire,  of  such 
exalted  benefits,  to  be  more  cherished  and  more 
acceptable  than  the  fullest  possession  of  mere 
bodily  delights.  There  must  be  more  real  satis- 
faction of  the  mind  in  perseveringly  aspiring 
to  the  noblest,  the  only  substantial  and  enduring 
good,  ahhough  one  were  not  to  be  indulged,  in 
the  present  state,  with  any  assurance  or  con- 
sciousness of  its  attainment,  than  in  the  full 
acquisition  of  pleasures  which  we  know  to  be 
insufficient,  mean,  and  transitory. 

How  forcibly  does  the  energetic  Baxter  urge 
this  preference  of  the  all-originating  good,  and 
a  sacred  scorn  of  all  that  would  compete  with 
it ! — "  Where  do  you  think,  in  reason,  that  all 
the  streams  of  goodness  do  finally  empty  them- 
selves ?  Is  it  not  in  God,  from  whom,  by  secret 
springs,  they  originally  proceed?  Where  else  do 
all  the  lines  of  goodness  concentre  ?  Are  not 
all  the  sparks  contained  in  this  fire,  and  all  the 
drops  in  this  ocean  ?  Surely  the  time  was,  when 
there  was  nothing  besides  God,  and  then  all 
good  was  in  Him.  And  even  now  the  crea- 
ture's  essence    and   existence   are    secondary 


136       SLOTHFUL    AND    SENSUAL    INCLINATIONS. 

derived;  contingent,  improper,  in  comparison 
of  His,  who  is,  and  was,  and  is  to  come,  whose 
name  alone  is  I  AM.  What  do  thine  eyes  see, 
or  thy  heart  conceive  desirable,  w^hich  is  not 
there  to  be  had?  Sin,  indeed,  there  is  none; 
but  darest  thou  call  that  good  ?  Worldly 
delights  there  are  none,  for  they  are  good  but 
for  the  present  necessity,  and  please  but  the 
brutish  senses. — Do  you  fear  losing  or  parting 
with  anything  you  now  enjoy  ?  What !  Do 
you  fear  you  shall  want  when  you  come  to 
heaven  ?  Shall  you  want  the  drops,  when  you 
have  the  ocean?  Or  the  light  of  the  candle, 
when  you  have  the  sun  ?  Or  the  shallow  crea- 
ture, when  you  have  the  perfect  Creator." 

It  is  while  these  powerful  considerations  least 
affect  me,  w^iile  I  am  most  prone  to  sink  under 
the  influence  of  that  "  carnal  mind  which  is 
death,"  and  my  soul,  immersed,  and,  as  it  were, 
half  imbruted  in  earth  and  sense,  knows  not 
how  to  taste,  and  scarcely  how  to  contemplate, 
a  spiritual  and  real  blessedness — it  is"  then  that 
I  have  surely  the  most  pressing  occasion  to  ask 
the  heavenly  gift,  of  better  thoughts  and  nobler 
affections,  from  the  Fountain  of  spiritual  light 
and  life.  He  can  enkindle  within  me  a  divine 
ambition — can  cause  my  spirit  to  "  thirst  for 
Himself,  even  for  the   living  God" — for   "  the 


PREOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND.  137 

fulness  of  joy  which  is  in  his  presence" — for 
that  perfect  righteousness  which  is  the  essence 
of  his  own  happiness.  To  him,  therefore,  dull 
and  insensible,  or  earthly  and  sensual,  as  I  now 
am, — to  Him  let  me  approach,  deeply  feeling 
how  essential  to  my  happiness  is  his  enlivening 
grace ;  and  let  this  be  the  tenour  of  my  earnest 
petition — "  My  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust ; 
quicken  Thou  me  according  to  thy  word !" 


'f 


XVII. 

ON  THAT  PREOCCUPATION  OF  THE  MIND  WHICH 
UNFITS  IT  FOR  DEVOTION ;  AND  ON  THE  MEANS 
OF  COUNTERACTING  IT. 

There  are  some  trials  which  press  on  us 
heavily,  and  yet  do  not,  like  many  other  occur- 
rences, tend  to  disincline  or  disqualify  us  for 
prayer.  On  the  contrary,  though  they  give  a 
special  direction  and  cast  to  our  petitions,  they 
promote  solemnity  and  fervour;  and  lead  to 
that  greater  abstraction  and  composure  which 
is  the  effect  of  increased  seriousness.  Such  are 
those  afflictive  circumstances  in  which  we  are 
12* 


138  PREOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND. 

in  a  great  measure  passive ;  when  the  event  has 
come,  or  must  come,  immediately  from  the 
hand  of  God;  or  when  we  are  particularly 
called  to  deliberate  or  to  act.  Such  are,  some- 
times, the  death  or  sickness  of  friends,  or  the 
ills  or  disappointQients  which  they  or  we  may 
suffer  from  causes  quite  uncontrollable  by  us. 
— Such  was  the  situation  of  Paul  and  his  fellow 
voyagers,  in  the  Alexandrian  vessel,  after  they 
had  been  compelled  to  "  let  her  drive,"  had  cast 
out  her  equipments,  and,  having  no  further 
power  to  direct  her  course,  were  "  driven  up 
and  down  in  Adria;" — such,  also,  was  that  of 
the  aged  Jacob,  v/hen  he  was  constrained  to 
permit  his  Benjamin  to  be  taken  away  to  Egypt, 
and  could  only  say,  after  an  affecting  prayer 
for  his  return,  "  If  I  be  bereaved  of  my  children, 
I  am  bereaved  !"  Who  can  doubt,  that,  when 
the  youth  was  out  of  sight,  when  the  melan- 
choly train,  which  he  followed  with  a  father's 
eye  to  the  summit  of  some  neighbouring  moun- 
tain, had  disappeared,  he  then  offered  more 
earnest  and  fixed  and  enlarged  supplications  for 
the  safety  of  his  beloved  child  ?  Prayer  was 
then  his  only  duty,  his  only  office  of  kindness, 
or  resource  of  affection. 

There  is  another  class  of  trials,  which,  though 
they  ought  to  have  the  same  influence,  and  in 


PREOCCUrATION    OF    THE    MIND.  139 

the  most  pious  minds  certainly  have  so,  yet 
have,  at  the  same  time,  a  contrary  or  disturb- 
ing force.  It  is  that  diversified  class  in  which 
we  are  compelled  to  be  active ;  more  especially 
those  in  which  speedy  action  is,  or  seems  to  be, 
required ;  as  w^hen,  for  example,  ourselves,  or 
those  dear  to  us,  are  involved  in  embarrassing 
or  hazardous  circumstances,  and  must  be  extri- 
cated by  means  which  require  consideration  and 
eflbrt.  Situations  of  this  kind  also  are  recorded 
in  the  fives  of  both  the  Scripture  characters  re- 
ferred to ;  as  when  the  patriarch  heard  of  the 
approach  of  his  offended  brother  with  an  armed 
band,  and  was  in  consequence  "  greatly  afraid 
and  distressed,"  but  obliged  to  decide  on  mea- 
sures for  his  own  and  his  family's  safety ;  and 
when  the  apostle,  at  Damascus,  became  ac- 
quainted with  a  conspiracy  against  his  life, 
which  required  him  to  adopt  instant  means 
of  concealment  or  escape. 

These  are  occasions,  (and  there  are  many, 
far  less  pressing  and  important,  that  yet  par- 
take of  the  same  character,)  which,  w^hile  the}^ 
strongly  prompt  a  good  man  to  look  up  to  God 
for  strength  and  guidance,  do  yet,  by  the  evident 
duty  of  action  which  they  impose,  tend  to 
divert  the  mind  from  a  calm  and  undivided 
exercise  of  devotion.     At  least  they  so  operate 


140  PREOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND. 

on  some  minds ;  and  not  so  much  on  powerfu 
ardent,  enterprising  minds,  formed  for  action, 
and  which  therefore  we  might  suppose  restless 
from  impatience  to  begin  it,  as  on  those  of  an 
opposite  complexion,  to  which  decision  and 
action  are  most  arduous,  and  which  are  there- 
fore most  perturbed  by  the  near  prospect  of 
such  duties.  These  will  undoubtedly  attempt 
prayer,  perhaps  in  many  more  words  than  the 
apostle  or  the  patriarch,  on  similar  occasions, 
uttered  ;  but  their  prayer  will  often  be  extremely 
distracted.  Comparative  brevity  is  suited  to 
such  occasions.  Diffusiveness  and  prolixity  are 
ill-timed.  Indeed,  prayer  can  never  be  com- 
puted by  the  sum  of  words  and  minutes,  but  by 
the  amount  of  faith,  reverence  and  desire.  It 
is  when  these  quahties  seem  lost  amidst  the 
confusion  or  perplexity  of  the  worshipper,  that 
the  very  essence  of  the  duty  appears  to  be  want- 
ing ;  although,  when  this  proceeds  from  mere 
infirmity,  it  will  be  mercifully  regarded  by 
Him  who  "  knoweth  our  frame." 

It  were  well,  however,  if  only  such  exigen- 
cies could  produce  these  effects.  There  are 
other  feehngs  and  situations,  hardly  deserving 
(in  comparison)  the  name  of  trials,  which  yet, 
not  seldom,  excite  in  minds  of  the  same 
temperament    as   high    a   degree    of   distrac- 


PREOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND.  141 

tion,  nay,  sometimes  a  higher;  because  be- 
ing in  themselves  less  urgent  or  critical, 
the  need  of  divine  aid  is  not  so  deeply 
felt,  while  the  counteracting  or  alienating 
impulses  of  thought  are  almost  equally  strong. 
Thus,  in  deciding  on  some  new  occupation  or 
connexion  for  ourselves  or  others,  or  meditating 
some  arrangement  in  which  the  tempers  and 
views  of  several  persons  are  to  be  consulted, 
the  affairs  in  question  may  scarcely  come  under 
the  grave  denomination  of  "trials,"  and  yet 
they  may  so  possess  the  mind,  as  exceedingly 
to  discompose  it  in  sacred  duties.  Or,  let  some 
design  engage  us,  which  may  be  quite  practi- 
cable, wholly  blameless,  or  even  praiseworthy 
— such  as  a  scheme  of  personal  advantage, 
undertaken  in  the  most  proper  manner,  and 
with  the  most  upright  aim  ;  or  a  plan  of  admin- 
istering charity  or  instruction ;  or  an  exercise 
of  thought  in  some  scientific  or  literary  attempt ; 
or  a  wish  of  publicly  advocating  some  benevo- 
lent institution;  none  of  these  can  be  called 
trials,  in  the  religious  acceptation  of  the  w^ord, 
for  they  may  be  pleasurable  rather  than  pain- 
ful; nor  can  they,  in  themselves,  be  deemed 
temptations,  for  the  supposed  employments  are  « 
"  lawful  and  right ;"  and  yet  they  may  very 
readily  become  temptations ;  for  they  may  so 


142  PREOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND. 

engross  and  haunt  the  mind,  as  to  incapacitate 
it  for  the  right  performance  of  duty  to  the 
Supreme  Being. 

It  is  far  easier  in  this,  as  in  many  other  cases, 
to  feel  and  understand,  and  analyze  the  evil, 
than  it  is  to  suggest  (much  more  to  apply) 
an  effectual  remedy.     The  poet  tells  me,  that — 


A  soul  immortal 


Thrown  into  tumult,  raptured  or  alarm'd. 
At  aught  this  scene  can  threaten  or  indulge, 
Resembles  ocean  into  tempest  wrought, 
To  wafl  a  feather,  or  to  drown  a  fly." 

Nor  can  the  calmest  reason  account  this  figure 
extravagant,  in  representing  the  disproportion 
between  our  little  and  momentary  interests 
here,  and  the  nature  and  prospects  of  a  spirit 
which  is  to  exist  for  ever. 

But  even  supposing  it  quite  certain,  (and  one 
would  be  most  reluctant  to  adopt  the  contrary 
belief  w  hich  some  have  expressed,)  that  even  this 
poet  possessed  the  true  devotion  which  many 
parts  of  his  writings  indicate,  it  may  well  be 
questioned  whether  their  composition  did  not  at 
times  so  occupy  and  swallow  up  his  mind  as  to 
preclude  or  impede  the  direct  exercises  of  piety. 
*i^  Yet  who  would  say,  that  the  composition  of  the 
^' Night  Thoughts,"  (or  of  "The  Task,"  by 
Cowper,)  was  a  hurtful  or  unprofitable  employ  ? 


PREOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND.  143 

One  corrective  of  that  unhappy  influence  on 
spiritual  comfort  and  improvement,  which  has 
been  now  described  as  arising  from  absorption 
of  mind,  or  determination  of  thought  to  a  parti- 
cular point,  will  bq  found,  perhaps,  in  allowing 
to  our  secret  devotions  that  turn  which  most 
accords  with  the  actual  bent  or  current  of  the 
soul.  Or,  to  express  it  differently, — by  making 
our  ruhng  thoughts  for  the  time,  a  guide,  as  far 
as  may  be,  to  the  particular  cast  and  topic  of 
devotion.  For,  where  the  understanding  or 
the  imagination  is  strongly  occupied  by  an 
object,  it  seems  more  practicable  to  use  this 
force  than  to  expel  or  oppose  it.  Since  the 
power  of  steam  has  been  applied  to  navigation, 
it  is  become  possible  to  propel  a  vessel  directly 
against  wind  and  tide ;  but  there  is  no  inherent 
force  analogous  to  this,  (at  least  none  is  found 
in  some  minds,)  by  which  the  earnest  course  of 
thought,  strongly  "  setting  in"  towards  a  cer- 
tain point,  can  be  directly  stemmed.  What, 
then,  is  our  resource,  but  to  endeavour  that  the 
contrary  current  shall  indirectly  serve  us;  as 
in  the  ordinary  way  of  navigation,  the  vessel 
yields  to  the  prevaihng  breeze,  and  has  her 
sails  filled  obliquely  by  that  very  gale,  which, 
if  her  prow  were  pointed  against  it,  would 
quite  baffle  and  stop  her  course. 


144  PREOCCUrATION    OF    THE    3IIND. 

It  may  perhaps  be  said,  some  Christians  are 
intently  engaged  in  pm^suits  not  at  all  censur- 
able, (on  which,  therefore,  in  a  general  way, 
they  can  implore  the  divine  blessing,)  and  yet 
so  secular,  that  it  appears  incongruous,  and  even 
indecorous,  to  refer  to  them  in  their  devotions. 
A  mechanician,  exercising  his  inventive  talent 
on  some  new  application  of  "  power,"  or  some 
improved  adjustment  of  wheels  and  valves ;  or 
a  chemist,  profoundly  engaged  in  the  analysis 
of  an  earth  or  a  fluid  ;  or  an  artist,  before  whose 
"prophetic  eye"  the  gradual  idea  of  a  fine 
group  is  mentally  rising,  must  force  himself,  it 
may  seem,  quite  away  from  the  immediate 
object  of  thought,  if  he  w-ould  rightly  enter  on 
devout  worship. 

Yet  the  incongruity,  or  remoteness,  is  (in 
these  instances  at  least)  more  seeming  than  real. 
The  inquiries  and  operations  of  science  and 
art  are  all  connected  with  the  laws  and  works 
of  nature ; — and  what  are  these  but  the  pre- 
sence and  agency  of  its  glorious  Author  ? — We 
can  imagine  the  illustrious  Boyle  absorbed  quite 
in  those  celebrated  experiments  on  air,  in  which 
mechanics  and  chemistry  were  combined ;  and 
that  he,  w^hen  suspending  the  most  favourite 
studies  of  the  laboratory  in  order  to  fulfil  the 
solemn  and  beloved  employments  of  the  closet, 


PKEOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND.  145 

might  conduct  himself  by  some  such  gradual 
transition  as  this  into  the  region  of  devotional 
feeling. — O  Thou,  by  whom  "  all  things  consist," 
who  didst  form  the  substance  of  matter,  and 
impress  on  it  the  laws  and  properties  of  its 
being.  Thou  knowest  it  is  my  dehght  to  investi- 
gate thy  works;  whatever  discoveries  I  may 
be  permitted  to  make  concerning  that  unseen 
but  wonderful  fluid,  on  which  Thou  hast  made 
animal  and  vegetable  life, in  this  world, to  depend, 
may  they  awaken  me  to  deeper  veneration  for 
Thyself,  the  invisible  Spirit,  in  whom,  far  more 
truly  and  eminently,  we  live,  and  move,  and 
have  our  being !  Grant,  also,  that  the  inquiries, 
in  which  I  am  so  pleasurably  engaged,  on  the 
subtile  composition  and  qualities  of  aerial  fluids, 
may  strengthen  my  joyful  belief,  or  facilitate 
my  apprehension,  of  the  indestructible  nature  of 
spirit,  and  of  the  promised  resurrection  of  a 
spiritual  body. 

Nor  is  it  more  diflicult  to  suppose  the  sculptor 
Bacon,  who  was  likewise  eminent  for  the  union 
of  talent  and  piety,  bent  on  the  study  of  the 
great  Chatham's  monument,  filled  with  the 
design  which  he  was  about  to  execute,  or 
beginning  with  ardour  to  sketch  or  model  it, 
and  then  retiring  into  his  closet,  not  to  break 
ofT  suddenly  and  altogether  from  the  object 
13 


146  TREOCCUPATIOIV    OF    THE    MIND. 

which  had  preoccupied  him ;  but  to  say — O 
Thou  Eternal  Mind,  Source  of  all  that  is  wise 
and  great,  how  noble  are  the  faculties  which 
Thou  hast  given  to  creatures  *'  made  in  thine 
image,  after  thy  likeness ;"  how  noble,  some- 
times, the  expression  and  indication  of  those 
faculties,  even  in  a  frame  so  soon  to  be  dissolv- 
ed !  Thou  hast  endued  nie  with  the  talent  of 
feebly  imitating  that  frame  which  is  so  "  fear- 
fully and  wonderfully  made."  Thy  indulgent 
providence  has  made  this  art  an  enjoyment 
Bless  it  also,  by  thy  grace,  to  my  highest  im- 
provement. Help  me  to  consider  with  adora- 
tion and  thankfulness,  while  I  labour  to  convey 
to  lifeless  materials  some  faint  resemblance  of 
the  character  of  motion  and  of  mind,  how 
unsearchable  thy  power  and  skill,  which  can 
give  vitality  to  inert  matter,  and  unite  intellect 
with  the  dust !  And  w^hen  I  remember  how 
that  commanding  form,  which  I  am  about  to 
represent  in  marble,  now  lies  mouldering,  and 
how  the  spirit,  which  electrified  the  senate,  is 
passed  away — may  these  thoughts  inspire  new 
gratitude  for  the  blessed  hope  of  the  gospel ;  for 
that  sublime  Visitor  of  earth,  who  himself  broke 
the  prison  of  the  tomb,  and  rose  a  living  monu- 
ment of  his  own  voluntary  subjection  to  death, 
and  eternal  triumph  over  the  grave. 


PREOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND.  147 

If  it  be  said  that  the  employments  of  these 
excellent  persons  were  of  an  intellectual  kind ; 
and  that  similar  transitions  to  devout  thought 
could  not  be  made  from  the  anxious  affairs  of 
commerce,  or  from  the  petty,  yet  perplexing 
routine  of  ordinary  business ; — this  must  be 
granted ;  but  then,  neither  ought  those  con- 
cerns, in  general,  so  deeply  to  absorb  the  mind, 
as  it  is  the  very  nature  of  intellectual  employ- 
ments frequently  to  do. 

Another  corrective,  however,  of  this  mental 
alienation  or  prepossession,  and  one  more 
available,  perhaps,  in  the  cases  just  mentioned, 
is  to  be  found  in  the  well-known  expedient  of 
using  (at  least  in  a  way  of  preparation)  the 
pious  sentiments  of  others.  The  devotional 
parts  of  Scripture,  and  the  reading  or  recitation 
of  sacred  poetry,  have  an  obvious  tendency  to 
tranquillize  and  elevate  the  thoughts ;  and,  per- 
haps, the  partial  or  introductory  adoption  of 
forms  of  worship,  in  secret,  will  be  sometimes 
profitable. 

There  may,  indeed,  be  a  wrong  and  profitless 
use  of  all  these  helps;  and  particularly  with 
regard  to  forms  of  worship,  it  is  conceivable, 
that  some  who  desire  to  "  pray  with  the  spirit," 
may  yet  needlessly  resort  to  them  as  a  cus- 
tomary resource  from  mental  effort ;  yet,  when 


148  FUEOCCUPATION    OF    THE    MIND. 

the  mind  is  in  the  state  now  described,  it  may 
be  found  m.ore  practicable,  (and  that  by  Chris- 
tians who  are  quite  awake  to  the  danger  of  for- 
mality,) to  adopt  from  the  heart  the  ideas  and 
desires  of  others,  than  to  collect  and  express 
their  own ;  while  those  ideas  and  desires  may 
be  likewise  in  themselves  more  spiritual,  more 
copious,  more  appropriate,  than  any  which,  in 
such  circumstances,  could  be  at  once  originated. 
If  experience  prove  to  an  individual,  that  by 
such  aid  his  "  heart  is"  sometimes  more  "  fixed" 
than  without  it,  he,  certainly,  by  its  use  on  such 
occasions,  consults  the  true  ends  of  all  worship 
— his  own  si)iritual  benefit  and  the  glory  of 
God. 

But  while  every  expedient  is  commendable, 
that  really  conduces  to  these  ends,  it  is  not  the 
less  certain,  that  a  due  regulation  of  mind  is  of 
the  first  importance  to  our  religious,  as  well  as 
secular  interests.  It  will  be  for  the  happiness 
of  all  to  cultivate,  in  every  pursuit,  habits  of 
fixed  attention,  composedness,  mental  self-con- 
trol ;  and  especially  to  do  so  in  the  earlier  years 
of  life,  before  contrary  habits  and  tempers  ac- 
quire strength. 

Even  idolaters  have  felt  the  peculiar  impro- 
priety of  not  giving  the  whole  mind  to  sacred 
rites.     We  learn  from  Plutarch,  that,  while  the 


RECENT    SIN.  149 

Roman  magistrate  was  employed  in  augury,  or 
sacrificing,  a  herald  admonished  the  people, 
"  Hoc  age  1"  Mind  this  ! — a  precept  supposed 
by  him  to  be  derived  from  Pythagoras.  How 
much  stronger  reason  is  there  for  us,  when  en- 
gaged in  the  "  sacrifice  of  praise,"  or  of  "  a  con- 
trite spirit,"  before  the  living  God,  to  remember 
the  more  forcible  precept  of  Paul,  "  In  these 
things  BE ;" — or,  "  Give  thyself  wholly  to 
them !"  * 


XVIII. 

ON  SPECIAL  AND  RECENT  SIN  AS  FORMING  AN  UR- 
GENT REASON  FOR  CONTRITE  PRAYER. 

Oh  that  my  mind  were  more  deeply  and 
poignantly  affected  at  the  thought  of  having 
affronted  the  "  terrible  majesty"  of  the  universal 
Judge,  and  abused  the  tender  forbearance  of 

*  1  Tim.  iv.  15.  An  injunction,  which,  though  primarily 
applied  to  the  official  engagements  of  the  evangelist,  cannot 
but  be  eminently  applicable  to  the  devotional  duties  of  the 
Christian. 

13* 


150  RECENT    SIN. 

my  unwearied  Benefactor ;  of  having  stifled  the 
warnings  of  a  conscience  illuminated  by  hea- 
venly truth,  and  rebelled  against  a  holy  and 
forgiving  God  ;  against  Him  who  gav^e  and  sus- 
tains the  very  faculties  by  which  I  have  trans- 
gressed ;  against  Him  who  could  instantane- 
ously, by  an  agonizing  correction,  or  a  fearful 
judgment,  teach  me  the  omnipotence  of  his  dis- 
regarded justice ! 

How  melancholy  and  how  criminal  is  that 
tendency  which  I  discover  in  my  heart,  (after 
the  first  pains  of  self-accusation  are  past,)  to 
harden  or  soothe,  rather  than  humble  itself; 
to  extenuate  the  offence,  or  to  argue  with  a  cal- 
lous and  perilous  sophistry. — So  many  have 
been  the  preceding  offences,  that  this  can  have 
added  little  to  the  account  of  guilt. 

What  deadly  qualities  are  united  in  this  ser- 
pent evil,  which  fascinates,  while  it  pierces  the 
soul,  and  has  a  venom  that  not  only  corrupts, 
but  benumbs  and  paralyses  also  !  It  is  true,  the 
gospel  of  Christ  invites  and  enjoins  me  to  em- 
brace the  hope  of  abundant  pardon :  it  forbids 
despondency  after  a  genuine  and  penitential 
recourse  to  that  divine  Saviour,  whose  "  blood 
cleanseth  from  all  sin  ;" — but  how  shall  I  rightly 
resort  to  this  pardoning  mercy  without  a  true 
and  profound  contrition  of  spirit?     Or  ought 


RECENT   SIN.  151 

even  the  assured  hope  of  forgiveness  to  prevent 
or  abate  undissembled  humiliation  and  bitter 
self-reproach,  when  I  reflect  that  all  past  and 
present  and  future  good,  not  only  to  the  latest 
instant  of  this  life,  but  through  the  boundless 
ages  of  the  future  can  come  only  from  the  free 
mercy  of  Him  v^'hose  gracious  precepts  I  have 
so  lately  scorned  or  forgotten  ?  Ought  not  such 
humiliation  and  self-reproach  to  fill  my  heart 
when  I  meditate  on  having  chosen  or  tolerated 
that,  oif  account  of  which  it  behoved  the  Son  of 
God  to  suffer  untold  anguish,  from  pure  love  to 
the  ruined  victims  of  transgression  ?  I  acknow- 
ledge that  the  conduct  or  spirit  of  which  I  have 
been  recently  conscious,  must,  if  unforsaken, 
alienate  me  for  ever  from  the  temper  and  the 
joys  of  heaven,  and  condemn  me,  by  a  dread- 
ful necessity  of  nature,  to  an  exile  from  happi- 
ness, even  were  I  surrounded  by  its  brightest 
tokens  and  manifestations  in  that  kingdom 
where  the  righteous  "  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in 
the  kingdom  of  their  Father  ?"  Tremble,  my 
soul,  at  such  a  thought !  Shudder  at  having 
indulged  for  a  day,  or  cherished  for  an  hour, 
(or  were  it  but  for  a  moment,)  that  which,  if 
perpetuated,  were  in  itself  "  everlasting  destruc- 
tion ;"  that  which  has  in  it  the  accursed  quality 
and  savour  of  the  "  second  death." 


152  EECENT    SIN. 

When  I  am  penetrated  with  this  appalling 
truth,  that  a  Being,  "  glorious  in  holiness,"  hath 
"  set  my  iniquities  before  Him,  my  secret  sins  in 
the  light  of  his  countenance ;"  that  He  "  under- 
standeth  my  thought  afar  off,"  and  is  "  acquaint- 
ed with  all  my  ways ;"  that  He  could  instantly 
lay  open  the  record  of  my  multiplied  offences, 
and  proclaim  them  by  "  the  voice  of  an  arch- 
angel in  the  great  congregation  of  spirits  and 
just  men;"*  that  He  could  fill  me  with  that 
"  everlasting  contempt"  and  incurable  rSmorse 
which  must  be  the  portion  of  the  impenitent  and 
unpardoned;  what  should  be  my  emotion  at 
having  exposed  myself  to  such  a  doom ;  what 
fervency  should  inspire  and  pervade  all  my 
pleas  for  the  benefit  of  that  Saviour's  atoning 
death,  "  whom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  pro- 
pitiation, through  faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare 
his  righteousness  for  the  remission  of  sins  that 
are  past,  through  the  forbearance  of  God  ;"  and 
how  abundantly  augmented  henceforth  should 
be  my  love  and  devotedness  to  Him,  through 
whom  alone  I  can  attain  the  peaceful  hope  that 
my  "  transgression  is  forgiven,"  that  my  "  sin 
is  covered !"  And  surely  nothing,  except 
unfeigned   penitence,  evinced   by  importunate 

*  Jeremy  Taylor. 


RECENT   SIN.  153 

prayer,  can  justly  afford  me  this  testimony.     I 
cannot,  without  the  most  dangerous  and  culpa- 
ble presumption,  account  myself  in  a  state  of 
acceptance  and  reconciliation  with  God,  except 
every  known  sin  be  followed  by  genuine  repent- 
ance, thus  heartily  expressed.     I  can  now  have 
no  evidence,  (whatever  may  have  preceded,)  of 
being  in  a  pardoned  state,  until  this  disposition 
and    this    act,    have   been    solemnly    renewed. 
"Repentance,"   says  the  excellent  Bates,   "is 
not   an    initial   act   of    sorrow,   but    must    be 
renewed  all  our  lives.     God's  pardoning  us  is 
not  a  transient  act,  but  continued ;  as  conversa- 
tion is  a  continued  creation."     And  if  our  con- 
stant sins  of  imperfection  and  frailty  make  this 
at  all  times  needful,  then  surely  ought  the  sense 
of  especial  and  pecuhar  guilt  to  constrain  and 
stimulate  us  to  proportionately  earnest  suppli- 
cation.    "  Our  desires,"  says  the  same  author, 
"  should  be  raised  in  the  most  intense  degrees, 
in  some  proportion  to  the  value  of  the  blessing. 
They   should   be   strong   as   our   necessity   to 
obtain  it.     The  pardon  of  our  sins  is  the  effect 
of  God's  highest  favour.     It  is  the  fruit  of  our 
Saviour's  bloody  sufferings.    Without  it  we  are 
miserable   for   ever.     And  can  w^e  expect  to 
obtain  it  by  a  formal   superficial  prayer?     It 
deserves  the  flower  and  zeal  of  our  affections.. 


154  RECENT    SIN. 

How  solicitous  and  vehement  and  unsatisfied 
should  we  be,  till  we  have  the  clear  testimony 
that  we  are  in  a  state  of  divine  fiwour !" 

And  when  I  thus  address  mj'self  to  the  Sove- 
reign Source  of  compassion,  it  is  indispensable 
to  implore  not  only  forgiveness,  but  heavenly 
strength  against  the  future  assaults  of  that  sin, 
which  has  "  pierced  me  through  with  many 
sorrows."  It  is  indispensable  that  I  should  re- 
sume my  sacred  resolutions  more  strenuously, 
and  with  niore  deep  dependence  on  that  hea- 
venly strength.  I  must  entreat  that  the  essential 
beauty  and  excellence  of  holiness  may  never 
more  be  eclipsed  by  the  miserable  and  dying 
illusions  of  evil ;  that  the  intrinsic  loathsomeness 
and  malignity  of  sin  may  never  more  be  cloaked 
or  veiled  from  my  spiritual  sight,  amidst,  the 
fading  allurements  or  specious  deceits  with 
which  it  can  here  invest  itself;  that  I  may 
never  more  yield  to  that  wilful  infatuation, 
which  refuses  to  anticipate  the  dismal  retros- 
pects of  a  wounded  conscience,  and  its  yet  more 
dismal  presages :  that  I  may  never  more  be- 
come insensible  to  this  momentous  truth,  that 
Christian  uprightness,  and  purity,  and  spiritu- 
ality, can  alone  arm  the  soul  against  inevitable 
trials — or  prepare  it  for  the  region  where  a 
holv  Saviour  dwells. 


PBAYEB    FOR   FELLOW    CHKIiSTIANS.  155 


XIX. 

ON  THE  DUTY  AND  IMPORTANCE  OF  PRAYER  FOR 
OUR  FELLOW  CHRISTL\NS. 

Even  if  I  possessed  no  other  part  of  revealed 
truth  than  the  historical  books  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, yet,  by  fiiith  and  attention  to  these,  I 
should  find  various  encouragement  to  offer  up 
intercession  for  the  servants  of  God.  The  con- 
descension of  Jehovah  to  Abraham's  repeated 
plea  for  the  righteous  in  Sodom  was  an  early 
and  impressive  sanction  of  this  practice.  The 
many  prevailing  prayers  of  Moses  for  the  cho- 
sen people,  by  which,  at  one  time,  the  *'  wrath" 
of  the  Almighty  was  averted  ;  at  another,  "  the 
fire  which  burnt  among  them  quenched,"  and, 
after  a  signal  instance  of  murmuring  and  revolt, 
their  iniquity  pardoned  according  to  his  word," 
evince  its  great  occasional  efficacy.  The  in- 
tense perseverance  of  that  man  of  God,  when, 
as  it  appears,  he  repeatedly  "  fell  down  before 
the  Lord  forty  days  and  forty  nights,"  on  their 
behalf,  shows  how  deep  a  conviction  he  had  of 
the  importance  of  earnest  and  continued  inter- 
cession, to  their  welfare ;  and  the  remarkable 


156  PRAYER    FOR 

v^ords  of  Samuel  in  a  like  case,  "  As  for  me, 
God  forbid  that  I  should  sin  against  the  Lord  in 
ceasing  to  pray  for  you,"  imply  that  this  was 
deemed  by  him  an  obvious  and  imperative  obh- 
gation  of  piety. 

But  should  I  assume  (what  indeed  would  be 
a  mere  assumption)  that  the  office  belonged, 
chiefly  or  exclusively,  to  the  prophetic  or  judi- 
cial character,  and  that  private  worshippers 
could  infer  no  duty  or  expectation  from  the 
practice  or  success  of  these  eminent  individuals, 
I  cannot  examine  the  New  Testament,  without 
finding  the  general  duty  and  efficacy  of  such 
prayers  distinctly  established.  The  duty  may 
be  strongly  inferred  from  our  Saviour's  com- 
mand, that  his  disciples  should  pray  even  for 
their  enemies  and  persecutors,  (w^hich  is  enjoined 
as  a  mode  of  "  doing  them  good,")  particularly 
when  we  view  this  command  in  connexion  with 
his  own  wonderful  intercession  on  the  cross. 
The  precept  is  strengthened  and  urged  by  that 
divine  example ;  and  since  the  part  of  our 
Lord's  intercessions,  which  is  incomparably  most 
difficult  to  our  corrupt  n^iture,  was  thus  de- 
signed to  be  imitated  by  his  followers — and 
was  so,  in  a  very  striking  manner  by  the  mar- 
tyr Stephen — we  cannot  doubt  that  other  parts 
of  them,  which  are  far  more  easily  imitable, 


FELLOW    CHRISTIANS.  157 

were  also  intended  to  guide  the  practice  of 
Christians.  Instances  may  be  offered  from  the 
prayer  for  the  support  of  Peter's  faith,  by  his 
gracious  Master ;  and  the  large  and  tender  in- 
tercessions for  his  disciplesj  and  for  those  who 
should  believe  on  him  through  their  word.  It 
was  in  reference  to  an  office  of  kindness,  that 
our  Saviour  said,  "  I  have  given  you  an  exam- 
ple, that  ye  should  do  as  I  have  done  unto  you :" 
nor  can  it  be  conceived,  that  so  natural  a  re- 
source of  friendship  and  sympathy  would  be 
neglected,  with  their  heavenly  Teacher's  pat- 
tern in  their  remembrance,  and  with  those  and 
his  other  words  on  record,  "  This  is  my  com- 
mandment, that  ye  love  one  another  as  I  have 
loved  you." 

The  efficacy  of  individual  intercession  is  also 
pointedly  declared  in  the  epistle  of  James ; 
"  Pray  one  for  another — the  fervent,  effectual 
prayer  of  a  righteous  man  availeth  much :"  and 
the  apostle  John  directs  Christians  to  pray  for 
a  brother  who  hath  committed  sin.  But  should 
either  or  both  of  these  injunctions  be  thought  to 
relate  only  to  the  prayer  of  those  endowed  with 
spiritual  gifts  for  miraculous  heahng,  there  re- 
mains, in  the  writings  of  St.  Paul,  a  store  of 
scriptural  proof,  as  to  the  general  duty  and 
efficacy  of  intercession  for  our  fellow  Christ- 
14 


158  PRAYER    FOR 

ians,  so  abundant  and  explicit,  that,  if  his  apos- 
tolical claims  be  acknowledged,  this  conclusion 
cannot  be  evaded.  Not  only  does  he  exhort  to 
*'  intercessions  for  all  men,"  but  especially  to 
"  the  greatest  perseverance  in  prayer  for  all  the 
saints."  He  also  declares,  in  various  forms, 
the  constancy  and  earnestness  of  his  own 
prayers,  both  for  Christian  communities  and 
individuals.  Thus  to  the  Roman  and  Ephesian 
churches  he  writes : — "  Without  ceasing,  I 
make  mention  of  you  always  in  my  prayers ;" 
to  the  Corinthians,  "  I  thank  my  God  always 
on  your  behalf,"  and  "  I  pray  to  God  that  ye 
do  no  evil ;"  to  his  friend  Philemon,  "  I  thank 
my  God,  making  mention  of  thee  always  in  my 
prayers ;"  and  to  his  convert  Timothy,  "  With- 
out ceasing  I  have  remembrance  of  thee  in  my 
prayers  night  and  day."  In  other  places  he 
states  more  particularly  the  subjects  of  these 
intercessions.  And  it  is  clear  that  he  does  not 
regard  the  duty  as  solely  or  peculiarly  belong- 
ing to  his  apostolic  character,  for  he  informs 
the  Colossians,  "  Epaphras,  who  is  one  of  you, 
a  servant  of  Christ,  saluteth  you,  always  labour- 
ing fervently  for  you  in  prayers,  that  ye  may 
stand  perfect  and  complete  in  all  the  will  of 
God ;" — and,  what  is  still  more  to  our  purpose, 
he  often  solemnly  entreats  the  intercession  of 


FELLOW    CHRISTIANS.  159 

Christians  for  himself  and  others.  Thus,  ad- 
dressing the  church  at  Rome ;  "  I  beseech  you, 
brethren,  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  and 
for  the  love  of  the  Spirit,  that  ye  strive  together 
with  me  in  your  prayers  to  God  for  me."  Simi- 
lar requests  occur  in  at  least  four  other  epistles. 
The  apostle  also  distinctly  attributes  powerful 
effects  to  the  past  intercessions  of  his  Christian 
friends ;  for  he  ascribes  to  these  (at  least  as  a 
partial  means)  the  deliverance  of  himself  and 
his  companions  in  Asia,  when  they  had  "  de- 
spaired even  of  life ;"  "  you  also  helping  toge- 
ther by  prayer  for  us,  that  for  the  gift  bestowed 
on  us  by  the  means  of  many  persons,  thanks 
may  be  given  by  many  on  our  behalf:"  and  he 
expresses  a  similar  expectation  as  to  other 
events.  Thus,  after  naming  to  the  Philippians 
a  particular  trial  which  he  was  enduring  at 
Rome,  he  adds,  "  I  know^  that  this  shall  turn  to 
my  salvation,  through  your  prayer,  and  the 
supply  of  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ."  It  ap- 
pears, therefore,  to  have  been  particularly 
designed,  that  the  epistles  of  Paul,  among  many 
other  most  important  instructions,  should  spe- 
cially enforce  this  duty,  and  encourage  us  in 
the  persuasion  of  its  benefits. 

But,  notwithstanding  this  fulness  of  encourage- 
ment from  the  Scriptures,  have  I  a  higher  degree 


160  PRAYER    FOR 

of  secret  distrust  as  to  any  real  good  which  may 
arise  to  Christian  friends  or  communities,  from 
my  exercise  of  this  duty,  than  as  to  the  efficacy 
of  my  petitions  for  personal  blessings? — What 
is  the  source  of  such  distrust  ?  Is  it  that  I  sup- 
pose certain  scriptural  declarations  to  imph', 
that  ihe  prayers  of  Christians  for  themselves 
will  be  always  sufficient  to  secure  their  real 
welfare,  and  that,  therefore,  intercessions  for 
them  may  not  be,  strictly  speaking,  needful  or 
beneficial?  This  would  be  imputing  to  the 
sacred  writers  acts  and  admonitions  which 
were  insincere  or  erroneous.  If  the  opinion 
that  intercession  would  be  superfluous  could  in 
any  particular  case  have  been  allowably  indulg- 
ed, it  might  have  been  by  those  converts  of  St. 
Paul,  who  had  w- itnessed  his  miraculous  endow^- 
ments ;  and  by  himself,  who  yet  more  surely 
knew  that  he  was  constituted  a  messenger  of 
Heaven,  under  a  special  assurance  of  protec- 
tion and  success.  But  such  independence  of 
human  aid  would  have  nourished  a  pride  and 
self-sufficiency,  to  the  dangers  of  which  the 
apostle  w^as  not  insensible.  He  was  made, 
therefore,  habitually  to  feel,  that  this  protection 
and  success  would  be  dependent  on  the  whole 
system  of  means  fit  to  be  used,  both  by  himself 
and  others,  and  that  among  these  a  principal 


FELLOW    CHRISTIANS.  161 

one  was  the  divinely  instituted  duty  of  interces- 
sion. On  the  same  conviction  the  first  Christians 
also  acted,  even  with  respect  to  the  chief  apos- 
tles. From  the  unceasing  prayer  of  the  church 
at  Jerusalem,  for  the  release  of  Peter,  (who,  in 
the  same  city,  had  proved  his  divine  commis- 
sion by  so  many  miracles,  and  from  the  prayers 
of  the  Corinthians,  (to  which  Paul  refers,  as 
having  contributed  to  his  own  rescue  from 
impending  death,)  we  learn  that  no  eminence, 
personal  or  official,  in  the  objects  of  the  pious 
regard  of  these  believers,  made  them  imagine 
intercession  on  their  behalf  to  be  needless. 
Much  less  ought  we  to  doubt  its  importance 
and  value  in  respect  to  ordinary  Christians, 
however  superior  we  may  account  them  to 
ourselves,  or  w^hatever  certainty  we  may  feel  of 
their  genuine  devotedness.  St.  Paul  expresses 
an  entire  assurance  of  the  perseverance  and 
perfection  of  his  Philippian  converts :  but  almost 
in  the  next  sentence  he  offers  a  prayer  for  their 
growth  and  stability  in  various  graces.  And 
with  our  intimate  sense  of  the  defects  and  in- 
equalities of  our  own  prayers,  and  our  observa- 
tion of  the  numerous  imperfections  and  severe 
trials  of  other  Christians — have  we  not  every 
reason  not  only  to  desire  the  intercession  of  our 
brethren,  but  to  conclude  that  they  may  justly 
14* 


162  PRAYER    FOR 

desire  a  part  even  in  ours,  and  to  believe  that 
these  reciprocal  exercises  of  faith  and  love, 
are,  through  the  sovereign  and  wise  appoint- 
ment of  our  heavenly  Father,  mutually  needful, 
and  will;  through  his  mercy,  be  mutually  avail- 
ing ? 

The  fact  that  many  intercessions  may  con- 
duce to  the  perseverance  and  perfection  of  the 
believer,  is  analogous  to  another  very  familiar 
fact,  viz :  that  various  causes,  seen  or  unseen, 
are  often  made  to  conduce  to  success  in  any 
secular  design.  When  a  person  aims  at  some 
honourable  office,  his  own  diligent  preparations, 
and  perhaps  solicitations,  are  indispensable  ;  but 
still  a  few  unsolicited  w^ords,  uttered  in  his 
favour  by  real  friends,  may  just  fill  up  that 
measure  of  influence,  on  others  or  on  himself, 
which  is  requisite  to  the  fulfilment  of  his  hopes. 
And  as  in  other  cases,  so  particularly  in  refer- 
ence to  spiritual  interests  and  attainments,  we 
can  discern  (as  was  hinted  before)  some  weighty 
reasons  for  this  appointment.  If  our  sense  oi 
the  need  and  value  of  mutual  help  be  one  great 
bond  of  civil  society,  yet  more  is  it  adapted  to 
be  a  bond  of  Christian  society,  for  it  promotes 
those  tempers  which  are  distinctive  of  the 
Christian  character — humility  and  love.  If  I 
believe,  with  St.   Paul,  respecting   my  fellow 


FELLOW    CHRISTIANS.  163 

Christians,  that  all  thuifrs  shall  turn  to  mv  sal- 
ration  "  through  their  prayer,"  in  conjunction 
with  my  own,  then  I  have  not  only  to  be  grate- 
ful for  the  fountain  of  "  living  water,"  "  the 
supply  of  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ,"  but  for  the 
various  channels,  known  and  unknown,  through 
which  it  is  partially  derived  and  conveyed. 
The  lowest  Christian  whom  I  have  sought  to 
benefit,  or  possibly  whom  I  have  overlooked 
and  neglected,  may  be  the  instrument  of  avert- 
ing from  me  an  evil,  or  procuring  for  me  a 
good,  the  extent  of  which,  neither  of  us  can  in 
this  world  calculate.  Such  a  belief  cannot  but 
promote  both  ''  lowliness  of  mind,"  and  a  senti- 
ment of  affection  towards  all  whom  I  may 
believe  to  fulfil  sincerely  this  office  of  pious 
friendship ;  for  every  such  person,  however 
unable  in  other  respects  to  aid  me,  thus  assumes 
the  position  of  a  real  benefactor.  And  this  kind 
of  obligation,  from  whatever  quarter  it  be  in- 
curred, is  not,  like  many  others,  felt  to  be  a 
burden.  We  know  that  they  who  affectionately 
offer  prayers  for  us,  enlarge  and  satisfy  their 
hearts,  while,  in  this  benefaction,  they  present 
nothing  with  their  hands.  We  hope,  also,  that 
we  can  return  for  these  expressions  of  their 
love,  intercessions  not  less  genuine.  And  be- 
sides this,  there  is  no  doubt,  that  manv  a  devout 


164  PRAYER    FOR 

and  grateful  heart  has  felt  itself  relieved  from 
the  oppressive  sense  of  other  bounties,  when, 
having  nought  else  to  render,  it  has  poured 
forth  in  secret  its  best  desires  and  petitions  for 
their  dispenser,  to  their  Divine  Author.  I  have 
been  told  that  a  Christian,  distinguished  by  his 
large  pecuniary  beneficence,*  strictly  enjoined 
his  almoners  to  prevent  the  objects  of  it  from 
thanking  him,  either  personally  or  by  letter, 
for  his  ample  gifts.  He  justly  alleged  the 
multiplied  claims  on  his  time  as  a  reason  for 
this  prohibition;  and  probably  the  knowledge 
of  his  own  heart  suggested  another  secret  rea- 
son of  equal  force.  But  the  restriction  was  so 
painful  to  some  grateful  receivers  of  his  bounty, 
as  to  be  submitted  to  with  the  utmost  reluc- 
tance. We  can  well  conceive  a  pious  benefi- 
ciary who  was  compelled  to  this  unwilling 
silence,  taking  refuge  from  that  constraint  with 
greater  earnestness  in  the  devotions  of  the 
closet ;  and  the  feelings  of  a  full  heart,  like 
waters  forcibly  compressed,  rising  the  more 
suddenly  and  strongly  towards  heaven,  because 
debarred  from  their  natural  course  on  earth. 
We  can  imagine  such  an  individual  entering 
on   fervent   intercessions    for   that    munificent 

*  The  late  Henry  Tliornton. 


FELLOW    CHRISTIANS.  165 

friend  with  sentiments  like  these ; — You  have 
forbidden  every  expression  of  my  gratitude  to 
yourself,  and  I  feel  this  deeply  as  a  hardship ; 
but  you  cannot  prohibit  or  impede  what  I  trust 
will  be  a  more  effectual,  as  well  as  more  une- 
quivocal testimony  of  it,  my  solemn  and  affec- 
tionate supplications  for  your  eternal  gain, 
which,  1  humbly  hope,  will  be  known  by  their 
fruits  in  the  great  day  of  account. 

Love  is  cherished  in  the  mind,  not  only  by 
the  belief  that  others  will  benefit  us,  but  also  by 
the  belief  that  we  can,  in  our  turn,  confer  real 
good  on  them.  Simply  to  think  of  a  friend 
wdth  affection,  is  a  very  inefficient,  and,  some- 
times, a  melancholy  employment ;  but  if  I  can 
perform  a  real  kindness  towards  him,  however 
secretly,  1  do  that  which  is  pleasurable  in  itself, 
and  tends,  by  bringing  him  often  into  my 
thoughts  as  an  object  of  regard,  to  unite  me 
more  and  more  with  him  in  heart.  If  you  can 
carry  to  a  sufferer  food  or  medicine,  or  advice, 
or  consolation,  you  will  probably  visit  him  fre- 
quently, and  your  concern  for  him  will  increase. 
If  you  could  bestow  nothing  but  a  look  of  grief, 
which  you  know  would  be  fruitless,  you  would 
be  likely  to  turn  aside  from  his  door.  So  he 
who  really  believes  that  he  can  substantially 
benefit  his  Christian  friends  by  prayer  on  their 


166  PRAYER    FOE 

behalf,  will  often  bring  their  characters  and 
circumstances  in  review  before  his  mind,  and 
by  every  such  mental  act,  will  strengthen  the 
habit  of  sympathizing  affection.  And  while  the 
practice  tends  to  promote  humility  and  love  on 
earth,  the  retrospect  of  it  may  have  the  same 
effect,  more  eminently,  in  a  future  state  of  social 
blessedness.  Hovv  delightfully  endearing,  in  that 
perfect  state,  for  the  circles  of  pious  friendship, 
and  those  intimately  connected  here  in  Christian 
communion,  fully  to  feel  and  know  that  the 
eventual  happiness  of  each  is  to  be  traced  in 
part,  instrumentally,  to  the  intercession  of  all ; 
so  that,  in  heaven,  as  well  as  on  earth,  "  thanks 
may  be  given  by  many,"  to  God  and  to  each 
other,  on  behalf  of  their  associates  and  them- 
selves !  May  Vv^e  not  suppose,  that  the  most 
near  and  tender  friendships  of  the  heavenly 
world,  will  subsist  between  those  whose  prayers 
have  been  most  earnest  and  most  prevalent  for 
each  other,  while  they  sojourned  here  ? 

And  if  w^e  can  thus  perceive  a  present 
improvement  of  the  most  valuable  graces,  and 
a  future  augmentation  of  pure  and  never-ending 
enjoyments,  to  be  the  natural  results  of  this 
divine  institute,  truly  here  is  enough  to  repress 
and  to  rebuke  every  doubt  of  its  importance. 

But  perhaps  my  misgiving  as  to  the  efficacy 


FELLOW    CHRISTIANS.  167 

of  my  ordinary  intercessions,  arises  from  this — 
that  I  cannot  habitually  intercede  in  a  copious 
or  distinct  manner,  even  for  the  near  circle  of 
my  Christian  friends ;  still  less  when  the  con- 
nexion is  more  remote.  In  the  latter  cases,  my 
petitions  are,  of  necessity,  quite  general ;  and 
as  to  the  former,  if  I  include  in  my  daily 
prayers,  all,  or  most,  of  those  who  have  some 
special  claim  on  my  remembrance,  w^ant  of 
time  must  prevent  these  intercessions  from 
being  specific  or  enlarged. 

On  this  it  may  be  observed,  that  we  cannot 
suppose  a  devout  Christian  will  often  omit  daily 
intercession,  though  it  be  necessarily  brief,  for 
the  few  who  are  most  near  and  dear.  But 
with  respect  to  other  friends,  it  seems  most 
natural  and  expedient,  that  our  prayers  should 
be  but  occasional,  in  order  that  they  may  then 
be  more  prolonged.  There  are  very  few,  even 
of  our  best  friends,  w^hom  we  can  visit  daily. 
How  happy  would  some  be  if  they  could  meet 
even  yearly !  But  if  we  made  it  a  rule  of  piety 
and  kindness,  daily  to  offer  up  particular  inter- 
cession for  one  individual,  or  one  household,  and 
thus  successively  for  each,  these  secret  visits  of 
the  heart  would,  in  many  instances,  be  far  more 
frequent  than  our  personal  or  epistolary  inter- 
course   can   be.     Amidst   the   inclemency  of 


168  PRAYER    FOR 

winter,  or  in  the  chamber  of  sickness,  we  might 
still  make  our  swift  excursions,  and  offer  the 
best  though  unheard  salutations,  of  Christian 
affection : — those  friends  of  course  claiming 
precedence  in  our  thoughts,  whose  feelings  or 
circumstances  were  known  to  demand  at  the 
time  peculiar  sympathy  or  interest. 

In  cases,  how^ever,  where  brevity  is  necessary, 
the  mistrust  which  may  arise  from  it  is  an  illu- 
sion. No  number  or  variety  of  words  can  con- 
stitute the  essence  or  effectiveness  of  prayer,  as 
viewed  by  the  divine  mind.  If,  indeed,  our 
prayers  for  ourselves  w^ere  needlessly  brief, 
scanty  and  general,  this  would  indicate  an 
absence  of  desire ;  a  w^ant  of  sensibility  to  our 
own  particular  sins  and  defects ;  an  undue  pre- 
ference for  other  engagements ;  and  a  distaste 
for  converse  with  our  Supreme  Benefactor. 
Besides,  the  attainment  of  pardon,  renovation 
and  final  perfection,  is  our  great  personal  con- 
cern. It  were  unreasonable  and  impracticable, 
in  this  as  in  other  affairs,  that  men  should  ordi- 
narily give  as  much  time  to  the  concerns  of 
various  friends,  severally,  as  to  their  own.  But 
the  brevity  of  prayers,  even  for  personal  bless- 
ings, when  they  are  offered  amidst  really  urgent 
occupation,  or  under  sudden  temptation,  cannot 
be  supposed  to  render  them  less  effectual,  than 


FELLOW    CHRISTIANS.  169 

when  in  other  circumstances,  our  emotions  and 
wants  have  been  ever  so  copiously  developed. 
Those  affecting  and  sublime  words  of  our  Lord, 
"Father,  save  me  from  this  hour;" — "Father 
glorify  thy  name;" — if  we  may  venture  reve- 
rently to  appropriate  them  in  the  crisis  of  danger 
or  distress,  will  surely,  at  such  a  moment,  express 
as  much  before  God,  as  if  our  need  of  succour 
could  be  fully  unfolded,  or  our  submission  lai'gely 
declared. 

And  thus  the  necessary  brevity  of  many  of 
our  intercessions,  provided  there  be  in  them  the 
real  sentiment  of  Christian  love,  cannot  be  deem- 
ed to  lessen  their  efhcacy.  It  is  this  sentiment 
of  "  fervent  charity,"  in  which  we  so  much  need 
to  "  abound  more  and  more,"  that  would  give 
to  our  briefest  and  most  general  intercessions  a 
new  vitality  and  power.  It  was  this  which 
melted  and  shed  abroad,  in  a  thousand  glowing 
currents,  (if  one  may  speak  so,)  the  heart  of  the 
converted  Paul ;  so  that  "  the  whole  world,"  as 
Fenelon  observes,  "  was  too  narrow  for  this 
heart:"  and  Chrysostom  finely  remarks  on  the 
affection  expressed  by  that  apostle  for  the  church 
at  Philippi :  "  It  was  much  '  to  have  them  in  his 
heart,'  but  much  more  when  in  chains  ;  yet  more 
when  engaged  *  in  the  defence  and  confirmation 
of  the  gospel ;'  for  he  seems  to  refer  to  the  time 
15 


170  PRAYER    FOR    FELLOW    CHRISTIANS. 

when  he  was  brought  before  his  judges,  and 
underwent  the  extremity  of  peril.  Even  stand- 
ing there,  (he  seems  to  say,)  I  meditated  not  how 
I  should  be  rescued  from  imminent  dangers,  or 
how  escape  the  snares  of  conspiracy,  but  I  was 
delighting  in  your  love,  and  in  converse  with 
the  absent.  Not  length  of  distance,  nor  the 
crowd  of  cares,  nor  the  magnitude  of  perils ; 
not  the  fear  of  rulers,  nor  the  insurrection  of 
multitudes ;  not  death  impending,  not  naked 
swords,  not  the  array  of  executioners,  nor  any 
other  object,  could  sever  me  from  the  remem- 
brance of  you. — For  nothing  is  more  imperious, 
nothing  more  sublime  than  love ;  it  flies  above 
all  such  weapons ;  it  is  loftier  than  the  darts  of 
the  great  adversary ;  from  the  topmost  heaven 
it  looks  downward  on  them  all,  and  as  the  vehe- 
mence of  a  mighty  wind  sweeps  away  the  oppres- 
sive dust,  so  the  force  of  love  sweeps  away  the 
turmoil  of  all  other  passions.  Thus  it  was  with 
Paul.  In  all  events,  he  had  sufficient  consola- 
tion, the  salvation  and  the  remembrance  of  those 
whom  he  loved." 


IN    DEJECTION.  171 


XX. 

ON  ENDEAVOURING,  AMIDST  DEJECTION,  TO  "  LOOK 
AT  THE  THINGS  WHICH  ARE  UNSEEN." 

All  earthly  things  appear  to  thee  more  dark 
and  cheerless  than  the  clouds  of  a  November 
day.  But  why  not,  by  an  effort  of  contempla- 
tion and  by  the  grace  of  faith,  enter  into  other 
scenes  and  rise  to  glorious  and  unchangeable 
realities  ?  Knowest  thou  not,  that  all  the  dis- 
appointments and  disgusts  of  this  life  will,  ere 
long,  be  as  if  they  had  never  been?  and  has  not 
the  word  of  God  assured  thee  of  a  mansion, 
nay,  of  '•  many  mansions,"  where  all  is  grandeur 
and  serenity  and  love  ? 

A  prisoner  confined  in  the  darkest  cell,  or  an 
artisan  wearied  with  the  most  irksome  sameness 
of  employment,  may  transport  himself,  in  thought, 
to  the  charms  of  the  fairest  landscape,  or  to 
dwellings  of  ease  and  social  pleasure.  And 
although  his  despondency  may  be,  in  some  cases, 
justly  deepened,  by  a  well-grounded  fear  that 
these  enjoyments  will  never  become  his,  thou, 


172  IN    DEJECTION. 

who    art    about    to   worship   the   "  Father   of 
mercies,"  by  that  "  new  and  living  way,"  which 
Christ  "  hath  consecrated  for  us,"  art  surely  not 
authorized  to  cherish  the  same  gloomy  appro 
hension  with  resrard  to  things  eternal. 

The  sacred  intercourse  with  Heaven,  in  which 
thou  art  preparing  to  engage,  implies,  if  it  be 
sincere,  a  true  desire  of  celestial  good,  and  of 
that  holiness  which  qualifies  for  its  possession. 
And  will  such  a  desire  be  disregarded  or  frus- 
trated by  "  the  God  of  all  grace  ?'  The  Divine 
Teacher  and  Saviour  hath  solemnly  proclaimed, 
"  Blessed  are  they  that  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness,  for  they  shall  be  filled." 

Seek  then  to  realise,  even  as  at  this  moment 
subsisting  in  all  its  glory,  a  w^orld  of  perfect 
purity  and  joy.  Think  of  the  full  displays  of  the 
divine  excellency,  which  there  fill  with  unmin- 
gled  delight  every  adoring  inhabitant.  Try  to 
conceive  of  that  inexpressible  peace,  combined 
with  an  unspeakable  energy  and  ardour  of  love, 
which  a  present  God  can  infuse,  and  is  at  this 
very  hour  infusing,  into  happy  spirits  that  encir- 
cle his  throne.  Even  at  this  point  of  time,  while 
thou  art  depressed  by  saddening  thoughts,  and 
the  heavy  rain-drops  only  remind  thee  of  the 
gloom  of  external  nature,  there  is  a  joyful  as 
sembly  raising  the  ceaseless  anthem  of  praise. 


IN    DEJECTION.  173 

which  fills  with  rapture  every  being  that  unites 
in  it.  No  petty  cares,  no  painful  regrets,  no 
distractions  of  thought,  no  infirmities  of  the  body 
or  the  mind,  impede  that  consentaneous  flow  of 
love  and  ecstasy.  Every  spirit  is  absorbed  in 
blissful  emotion,  incapable  of  satiety,  in  deep 
sympathy  with  the  rest,  yet  supremely  fixed  on 
the  overflowing  source  of  all  their  joy.  If  it 
were  not  for  the  space  that  interposes,  or  per- 
haps the  mortal  weakness  which  forbids,  an 
enrapturing  view  of  the  felicity  which  God 
imparts  to  unfallen  or  restored  creatures,  might 
this  moment  burst  upon  thee.  These  particles 
of  light  which  have  just  reached  thine  eye,  come 
tinged  with  a  sort  of  congenial  sadness  as  they 
gleam  between  wintry  clouds;  yet,  it  is  only 
eight  minutes  (as  the  calculations  of  science 
assure  us,)  since  these  very  particles  issued 
from  the  glowing  sun,  the  fountain  of  warmth  and 
radiance.  Were  it  ordained  that  one  or  more 
of  them  should  become  the  organs  of  thy  disem- 
bodied being,  and  in  their  return — (not  swifter 
than  their  journey  hither,)  should  bear  thee  to 
the  orb  whence  they  emanated,  fewer  moments 
than  thou  hast  now  occupied  in  one  low  circle 
of  anxious  thought,  would  sufiice  to  carry  thee 
into  the  very  focus  of  the  light.  The  full  har- 
mony of  the  spheres,  might,  long  before  that, 


174  IN    DEJECTION.  f: 

enchant  thy  new  and  finer  sense ;  the  glorious 
companies  of  the  happy  miglit  visibly  surround 
thee  with  smiles  of  gratulation :  the  cares  and 
dark  imaginings  of  this  little  scene  would  have 
died  into  remoteness  and,  perhaps,  oblivion.  Or 
possibly,  not  even  any  change  of  place  were 
needful  to  this  change  of  scene.  There  might 
only  need  to  be  the  fall  of  the  grosser  frame, 
the  dissolving  of  this  "  tabernacle,"  to  reveal  a 
world  of  blissful  existence  even  here;  as  the 
mountain  in  Dothan,  when  God  opened  the  eyes 
of  the  prophet's  desponding  servant,  was  full 
of  "  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  round  about 
Elisha." 

But  whatever  be  the  fact  (as  to  nearness  or 
remoteness)  w^ith  regard  to  created  glories,  the 
Lord  of  glory  is  ever  with  thee.  He  who  gives 
being  and  perpetuity  to  all  those  unseen  joys  is 
Iicre.  "  Do  1  not  fill  heaven  and  earth  ?  saitb 
the  Lord."  Wilt  thou  then  approach,  as  s 
worshipper,  this  God  of  glory,  with  a  dull  and 
unmoved  heart  ?  After  one  glance  at  what  is 
now  existing  and  transacting  in  some  other 
region  (perhaps  even  in  this  region)  of  his 
works,  wilt  thou  be  faint  and  feeble-minded  to 
implore  his  Holy  Spirit — the  earnest  of  a  parti- 
cipation in  his  own  felicity  ?  Has  not  "  the  God 
of  all  patience  and  comfort,"  by  the  lips  of  his 


IN    DEJECTION.  175 

beloved  Son,  most  emphatically  promised  to 
them  that  ask  him,  this  divine  gift,  this  inesti- 
mable pledge  ?  Is  it  a  gift  to  be  sought  coldly, 
or  entreated  carelessly? — even  the  sovereign 
blessing  of  Him  that  has  all  the  springs  of  joy  ? 
Surely  the  indifference  or  distaste  which  is 
now  experienced  by  thee  with  regard  to  the 
ordinary  comforts  and  occupations  of  this  life, 
will  not  be  allowed  to  extend  to  those  heavenly 
hopes  which  are  essentially  and  everlastingly 
worthy  of  thy  warmest  pursuit.  They  will  not 
be  allowed  to  reach  that  state  where  there  will 
be  an  eternal  plenitude  of  spiritual  delights, 
adequate  to  the  satisfaction  of  immortal  desires, 
and  where  these  hallowed  desires  can  them- 
selves never  languish  or  decline.  Awake,  O 
candidate  for  an  incorruptible  crown ;  address 
thyself  to  "  the  Father  of  lights,"  as  if  some 
ray  from  the  glory  and  beauty  of  his  heavenly 
temple  were  poured  upon  thine  inward  vision ; 
as  if  some  faint  echo  of  the  hallelujahs  of  the 
perfect  had  fallen  on  thine  ear ! 


176       POWER  OF  GOD  TO  CORRECT. 


XXI. 

ON  THE  DUTY  OF  REMEMBERING,  (IN  A  SINFUL  OR 
INSENSIBLE  TEMPER  OF  MIND,)  HOW  THE  AL- 
MIGHTY CAN  CORRECT. 

The  thought  of  our  own  death,  and  of  the 
life  which  follows,  (when  impressively  present- 
ed, and  deeply  received  into  the  mind,)  is  a 
thought  of  unequalled  power.  But  it  is  not  the 
only  thought  which  can  produce  a  salutary 
dread,  or  revive  our  impaired  sense  of  the  awful 
truth,  that  "  The  Lord  God  omnipotent  reign- 
eth."  There  are  possibihties  and  probabilities, 
which,  by  their  number,  their  variety,  and  their 
apprehended  nearness  in  point  of  time,  may 
affect  me  more  than  the  foresight  of  that  last 
event,  which,  though  inevitably  certain,  is  gen- 
erally thought  of  as  distant. 

Now  that  my  mind  is,  in  a  great  measure, 
unmoved  by  the  truth  or  awfulness  of  God's 
moral  government,  and  the  infinite  importance 
of  his  favour,  I  should  endeavour  to  call  up  the 
reflection  how  entire  is  my  dependence,  and  in 


POWER    OF    GOD    TO    CORRECT.  177 

how  many  ways  I  am  vulnerable.  When  the 
great  poet  of  mythology  represents  "  the  Lord 
of  the  unerring  bow,"  as  bending  it  against  the 
Grecian  hosts,  and  discliarging  arrows  "  bright 
with  an  immortal's  vengeance,"  he  does  but  use 
the  same  figure  (though  with  a  peculiar  and 
beautiful  appropriation  of  it  to  the  destructive 
sunbeams)  which  the  poets  of  the  true  theology 
had  before  applied  to  the  visitations,  (whether 
visible  or  invisible,)  of  a  power  really  divine. 
Job  had  exclaimed,  •'  The  arrows  of  the  Al- 
mighty are  within  me !"  David  cried  out  in 
anguish,  "  Thine  arrows  stick  fast  in  me !" 
And  what  figure  can  more  truly  or  forcibly, 
represent  our  exposed  condition  here,  than  that 
which  the  former  of  these  sacred  writers  adopts, 
when  he  says,  "  God  hath  set  me  up  for  his 
mark;  his  archers  compass  me  round  about." 
Mine  is  the  condition  of  one  who  is  open  to 
the  flying  points  of  unnumbered  arrows.  How 
silently,  how  secretly,  may  the  darts  of  bodily 
or  mental  suffering  reach  me !  The  shaft  of 
death  may  strike  suddenly  and  in  succession 
those  that  are  dearest,  till  I  am  ready  to  adopt 
that  mournful  expostulation,  "  Insatiate  archer, 
could  not  one  suffice  V  The  viewless  dart  of 
pain  may  touch  a  minute  vessel,  or  a  minuter 
nerve,  and  all  earthly  comfort  be  suspended, 


178       POWER  OF  GOD  TO  CORRECT. 

while  that  hidden  wound  is  unhealed.  Or  what 
is  still  more  keen  and  often  less  curable,  the 
barb  sharpened  by  calumny  or  unkindness,  by 
the  misconduct  or  calamities  of  another,  or  by 
spiritual  dejection  and  terror,  may  "  enter  into 
my  soul."  Of  all  these  kinds,  (and  how  innu- 
merable the  individual  varieties  of  each !)  are 
the  weapons  of  the  just  and  holy  God,  *'  the 
arrows  of  his  quiver."  They  are  sometimes 
the  missiles  of  an  instant,  more  rapid  than  the 
darting  beams  that  glanced  pestilence  on  the 
dying  Greeks.  Would  not  the  actual  pang  from 
but  one  of  these,  at  once  painfully  awaken  me 
to  my  need  of  divine  help  and  healing?  And 
can  I  doubt,  that,  amidst  my  numberless  provo- 
cations, on  me  also  he  hath,  as  it  were,  "  bent 
his  bow,  and  made  it  ready?"  Yet  how  seldom 
has  the  arrow  flown !  And  how  frequently  has 
it  come  like  an  arrow  spent  or  blunted,  which 
might  have  had  a  tenfold  force  or  keenness,  but 
for  the  forbearance  or  gentleness  of  that  mighty 
arm  which  directed  it  ?  What  multiplied  occa- 
sions have  I  had  to  acknowledge — "  He  maketh 
sore,  and  bindeth  up; — He  woundeth,  and  his 
hands  make  whole !" 

Nor  ought  I  to  consider  these  arrows  of  the 
Almighty,  even  when  their  wound  has  been  the 
deepest,  and  still  rankles,  as  sent,  (like  those  of 


POWER    OF    GOD    TO    CORRECT.  179 

the  fabled  divinity,)  in  vengeance.  Never  can 
this  be  supposed,  except  when  they  are  commis- 
sioned against  the  utterly  hardened  and  incorri- 
gible. What  can  be  more  agonizing  than  those 
'wounds  both  of  the  body  and  the  spirit,  which 
Job  describes  ? — "He  cleaveth  my  reins  asunder, 
and  doth  not  spare ;  He  poureth  out  my  gall 
upon  the  ground."  And  yet  it  is  most  manifest 
that  these  w^ere  the  "  faithful  wounds"  of  a 
heavenly  "  Friend."  He  who  "  corrects  in 
measure,"  may  have  "  bent  his  bow  like  an 
enemy;"  indeed,  He  says  more  than  this  by 
the  prophet  to  his  servant  Israel :  "  I  have 
wounded  thee  with  the  wound  of  an  enemy, 
with  the  chastisement  of  a  cruel  one ;"  which 
incontrovertibly  shows  how  "  grievous,"  how 
apparently  "  incurable,"  may  be  the  pang  that 
is  yet  at  other  times  inflicted  in  mercy.  For 
"what  is  the  sequel  ?  "1  will  restore  health  unto 
thee,  and  I  will  heal  thee  of  thy  w^ounds,  saith 
the  Lord." 

Finding  in  the  Scripture  such  facts  and  such 
assurances,  I  should  wrong  and  affront  the 
divine  perfection,  by  imagining  that  present 
chastisement,  even  when  it  is  the  immediate 
effect  of  sin,  is  inflicted  for  any  other  than  a 
restoring  purpose.  It  were  comparing  the 
righteous  and   merciful  God  to  the  most  evil 


180  POWER    OF    GOD    TO    CORRECT. 

and  merciless  of  men,  to  account  his  arrows 
envenomed.  Rather  let  me  believe  that  the 
sharpest  are  dipped  in  balm.  It  is  true,  the 
patriarch,  in  the  impassioned  language  of  suffer- 
ing, says,  '*  The  poison  thereof  drinketh  up  my 
spirit;"  but  the  poison  originates  and  ferments 
only  in  the  disordered  frame  which  is  pierced. 
Even  when  revengeful  men  and  malignant 
spirits  are  employed  as  the  "  archers"  of  Him 
who  corrects  man  for  iniquity,  still  he  has  all 
power  and  grace  to  make  their  enmity  subser- 
vient to  the  purposes  of  his  own  loving-kind- 
ness. 

But  w  hile  this  consolatory  caution  with  regard 
to  the  gracious  designs  of  Him  w^ho  is  all-power- 
ful, cannot  be  too  deeply  impressed  on  me,  let 
me  not  forget  the  situation  in  which  I  really  am, 
while  on  earth,  and  which  the  scriptural  meta- 
phor so  aptly  expresses.  Still,  even  to  the  end 
of  my  course,  I  shall  be  like  a  pilgrim  "  in  the 
wilderness  of  Paran,"  among  the  predatory 
tribes  of  Ishmael,  "  a  mark  for  his  archers." 
The  next  moment  can  wing  an  unseen  arrow, 
and  fix  a  smart  which  no  human  skill  may 
avert  or  mitigate,  or  perhaps  discern.  I  see 
continually  the  effects  of  these  darts  on  some 
around  me ;  but  there  is  a  far  greater  multitude 
which  are  unobserved,  and  many  in  whom  the 


POWER    OF    GOD    TO    CORRECT.  181 

wound  is  as  latent  as  the  weapon's  flight.  Not 
that  this  exposed  state  of  our  pilgrimage  should 
occasion  dismay.  The  soldiers  of  a  wretched 
ambition,  (even  unshielded  as  ihey  are  in  modern 
warfare,)  have  exhibited  astonishing  intrepidity 
and  calmness  in  the  thickest  perils  of  battle ;  a 
temper  of  mind  which  denotes  insane  presump- 
tion, when  we  consider  the  cause  in  which  they 
have  been  engaged,  and  the  flagrant  contempt 
of  God's  power  and  law  which  their  lives  have 
often  evinced.  But  he  who  venerates  the  ever- 
present  power,  has  all  reason  for  coin'age  and 
confidence.  Our  God  at  once  directs  the  as- 
sailants, and  provides  the  defence  of  his  serv- 
ants. Though  "  his  troops  come  together,  and 
raise  up  their  way  against  me,  and  encamp 
round  about  my  tent ;" — "  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
encampeth"  (more  closely)  "  round  about  them 
that  fear  him ;"  not  indeed  to  ward  off  every 
assault,  or  avert  every  weapon,  but  to  afford 
such  aids  as  the  all-wise  and  gracious  Ruler 
has  himself  appointed. 

Yet  nothing  can  be  more  apparent  than  that 
a  remiss,  unwatchful,  and,  if  I  may  so  term  it, 
uncinctured  frame  of  spirit,  is  entirely  unsuited 
to  a  state  in  which  pains  and  perils  continually 
impend ;  that  indulgence  in  what  is  wrong,  or 
neglect  of  what  is  right,  gives  actual  cause  for 
16 


182        POWER  OF  GOD  TO  CORRECT. 

these  chastisements.  So  that  when  they  are 
inflicted,  conscience,  except  it  be  seared  or 
stupified,  will  interpret  them  as  penalties,  and 
sometimes  with  the  dread  that  they  are  merely 
judicial,  not  corrective ;  an  apprehension  which, 
though  it  be  erroneous,  yet,  while  it  continues, 
awfully  increases  their  severity.  Besides,  that 
many  of  the  ills  of  life  are  express  and  special 
penalties,  (though  of  the  merciful  and  corrective 
kind,)  no  believer  of  the  Scriptures  can  doubt. 
God  himself  says,  "  1  have  wounded  thee — for 
the  multitude  of  thine  iniquities,  because  thy  sins 
were  increased." 

Even  if  I  could  always  maintain  the  alleviat- 
ing persuasion  that  punishment  is  designed  in 
mercy,  this  does  not  wholly  change  its  nature 
as  punishment ;  still  less  does  it  therefore  cease 
to  be  "  for  the  present — grievous."  Though  the 
arrow  be  commissioned  to  do  the  heahng  office 
of  the  lancet,  I  can  scarcely  expect  to  feel  as- 
sured of  this  when  it  pierces  me.  But  if  I 
should,  it  may  yet  be  clear  that  I  have  brought 
on  myself  the  disease  which  calls  for  so  sharp  a 
remedy;  nor  may  the  wound  in  itself  be  less 
deep,  nor  the  pain  less  acute,  than  if  it  had 
come  from  an  enemy's  quiver.  Am  I  then 
slumbering  when  I  should  press  onward  ?  Have 
I  not  to  expect,  continuing  in  this  position,  to  be 


POWER    OF    GOD    TO    CORRECT.  183 

speedily  roused  by  some  quickening  dart  1  Am 
I  loitering,  while  the  sun  of  life  declines,  or  have 
I  diverged  into  some  path  "  the  ends  whereof 
are  the  ways  of  death  ?"  May  I  not  then,  with 
certainty,  conclude  that  He  who  "  marketh  all 
my  paths,"  has  even  now  "  made  ready  his 
arrow  upon  the  string,"  and  that  if  I  persevere, 
I  shall  not  return  without  a  bleeding  heart  or  a 
wounded  spirit  ?  Unless  love  to  God  (that  pure 
and  delightful  motive  to  vigilance  against  all  sin, 
and  zeal  in  every  duty)  were  perfected  in  me,  I 
cannot  but  need  the  harsh  checks  and  incentives 
of  fear:  and  if  I  fail  to  contemplate  feehngly 
the  more  awful,  but  more  distant  objects  of  fear, 
it  behoves  me  to  reflect  on  those  which  are  at 
hand ;  the  terrors  or  sufferings  which,  if  God 
will,  "  shall  make  me  afraid  on  every  side." 
Have  I  endured  "corporal  sufferance"  and 
mental  anguish  in  time  past  ?  Do  I  remember, 
if  not  the  nature  and  degree,  yet  the  effects  of 
each,  so  as  thus  to  compute,  in  some  measure, 
what  was  their  intenseness  ?  Do  not  I  know  to 
w^hat  an  excruciating  extremity  these  might  be 
raised  by  Him  who  sustains  my  very  existence  ? 
Am  I  not  well  aware  that  the  same  Power  that 
"  redeemeth  my  life  from  destruction,"  can  cause 
me,  before  another  sun  phall  rise,  to  "  water  my 
couch  with  my  tears  ?"     What  stronger  or  more 


184  WANT    OF    JOY    SHOULD 

immediate  temporal  motive  for  thanksgiving  can 
I  have  than  the  present  undeserved  forbearance 
of  God?  What  more  pressing  argument  can 
be  addressed  to  me  than  these  "  innumerable 
evils"  to  which  I  am  obnoxious,  to  excite  con- 
stant and  earnest  prayer  for  his  holy  keeping, 
and  unrelaxing  watchfulness  against  those  trans- 
gressions and  neglects,  w^hich,  doubtless,  are 
often  the  direct  cause  of  suffering,  and  whicn 
always  form  its  bitterest  aggravation  ? 


XXII. 

ON  THAT  DISCOURAGEMENT  IN  PRAYER  WHICH 
ARISES  FROM  THE  WANT  OF  SENSIBLE  FER- 
VOUR AND  JOY. 

Fenelon  expresses  the  remarkable  opinion, 
that  "  We  never  pray  so  purely,  as  when  we 
are  tempted  to  believe  that  we  are  no  longer 
really  praying  because  we  cease  to  taste  a 
certain  pleasure  in  prayer."  This  is  adapted  to 
afford  to  some  minds  a  most  valuable  encour- 
agement, provided  they  are  convinced  that  it  is 


NOT    DISCOURAGE    PRAYIJR.  185 

founded  on  truth,  and  may  be  received  with 
safety.  But  the  very  state  of  mind  to  which  it 
applies,  is  that  in  which  we  are  prone  to  view 
all  encouragement  with  suspicion. 

It  may  be  right  to  premise,  (in  order  to  pre- 
clude any  perversion  of  the  sentiments  which 
follow,)  that  there  is  a  kind  of  suspicion,  which 
it  is  a  Christian's  duty  ever  to  investigate.  The 
want  of  enjoyment  in  devotion  may  doubtless 
be  often  traced  to  the  indulgence  of  some  sin. 
It  should,  therefore,  lead  us  the  more  seriously 
to  faithful  self-examination,  extending  to  the 
allowed  state  of  the  thoughts  and  affections; 
and  should  induce  redoubled  watchfulness 
against  all  that  is  evil,  as  a  canker  at  the  root 
of  spiritual  joy. — On  the  other  hand,  it  would 
be  most  unwarrantable  to  affirm,  that  Fenelon, 
so  distinguished  for  a  self-scrutinizing  and  self- 
denying  piety,  was  grossly  deceived  as  to  the 
state  of  his  own  heart.  It  would  be  presump- 
tuous to  suppose  that  the  Father  of  our  spirits 
cannot,  or  does  not,  try  his  servants  by  spiritual 
privations,  as  well  as  in  any  other  manner, 
without  peculiar  provocation  on  their  part. 
And  it  would  be  cruel,  as  well  as  presumptu- 
ous, to  decide  for  the  individual  who  mourns 
under  such  destitution,  that  it  necessarily  flows 
from  his  own  sins,  (otherwise  than  as  all  suffer- 
16* 


186  WANT    OF    JOY    SHOULD 

ings  originally  spring  from  that  source,)  or  that 
it  is  absolutely  removable  by  his  own  efforts. 

It  is  undeniable,  that  perseverance  in  a  duty 
■when  unattended  with  pleasure,  is  a  stronger 
test  of  principle,  than  the  most  ample  indul- 
gence in  a  privilege  which  proves  its  own 
immediate  blessing. 

But  while  we  must  admit  that  some  principle 
is  evinced,  we  are  apt  (under  that  painful 
privation  of  devotional  enjoyment)  to  inquire, 
Is  it  the  principle  of  faith  by  which  I  am 
actuated,  or  is  it  a  mere  effort  of  conscience, 
which,  to  appease  its  fears,  attempts  to  feign  a 
sacred  engagement  ?  Can  we  be  said  to  exer- 
cise real  faith,  except  our  prayer  be  not  by 
self-constraint,  but  wiUingly ;  and  unless,  in  the 
course  of  it,  w^e  attain  some  joyful  or  pleasing 
views  of  the  divine  perfections  and  promises  1 
— I  apprehend  we  may ;  and  even  that  a  mucli 
stronger  exercise  of  faith  may  be  inferred  from 
our  "  continuing  instant"  in  stated  prayer,  while 
such  views  are  not  imparted,  than  from  the 
greatest  copiousness  of  devotion,  amidst  the 
fervour  of  elevated  and  hopeful  feeling. 

It  was  indeed  elsewhere  observed,  that  a 
lively,  joyful  faith,  is  an  exercise  not  only  of 
belief  but  of  imagination,  (or  vivid  concep- 
tion;)    but   it   is  far  from  following,  as  a  just 


NOT    DISCOURAGE    PRAYER.  187 

consequence,  that  faith,  without  this  cheering 
auxiliary,  cannot  be  genuine,  steadfast,  or  tena- 
cious. We  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  the 
light  or  the  eye  of  faith  ;  by  which  we  mean 
belief  combined  with  that  powerful  conception 
of  its  objects  which  is  highly  gratifying,  and 
doubtless,  sometimes,  highly  profitable,  to  the 
mind  possessing  it.  But  the  devout  and  elo- 
quent author  whom  I  have  quoted,  often  speaks 
of  the  "  darkness,"  the  "  profound  night  of  pure 
faith,"  by  which  he  means  a  mere  belief, 
divested  of  those  accessary  aids  of  imagina- 
tion and  sentiment.  And  it  is  manifest,  that 
such  a  mere  belief,  if  it  prompt  to  supplication 
and  to  action,  attests  its  own  strength  far  more 
clearly,  than  that  which  is  reinforced  and  sus- 
tained by  pleasurable  emotions.  It  may  indeed 
have  much  more  of  doubt  to  contend  with  ; 
for  suspended  apprehension,  regarding  spiritual 
or  unseen  objects,  is  very  much  allied  to  doubt. 
But  then  the  continued  life  and  action  and 
conflict  of  faith,  amidst  such  doubt,  give  pow- 
erful proof  of  its  reality  and  force,  « 
We  can  imagine  two  seamen  navigating  op- 
posite shores  of  the  same  broad  ocean. — On  one, 
the  sun  has  genially  risen,  and  cheers  his  heart 
as  it  scatters  brightness  over  the  rippling  waves. 
A  favourable  gale  springs  up.     He  is  bidden  to 


188  WANT    OF    JOY    SHOULD 

weigh  anchor  and  hoist  all  sail.  He  obeys  with 
alacrity  and  delight.  There  is  no  sense  of  fa- 
tigue or  reluctancy.  With  every  strain  of  the 
cable  his  heart  bounds  homeward.  He  seems 
to  descry  already  the  cliffs  of  his  native  shore, 
and  his  loud  cheers  keep  time  with  his  animated 
efforts. — On  the  other,  the  dew  of  night  is  fall- 
ing, or  the  sharp  blast  whistles  around  him. 
Every  star  is  hidden.  The  vessel  makes  no 
way.  Nothing  can  be  seen,  and. he  hears  only 
the  gloomy  dash  of  the  billow.  He  is  directed 
to  ascend  the  mast,  to  reef  a  sail,  to  labour  at 
the  pump.  He  steadily  obeys  :  but  it  is  in  sad- 
ness. His  heart  is  heavy,  and  his  eye  dull. 
No  lively  anticipation  of  the  desired  haven 
visits  his  mind.  No  note  of  animation  or  plea- 
sure is  heard.  Still  he  continues  instant  in  toil. 
Will  it  be  said  that  this  man  shows  no  genuine 
trust  or  fidelity  ?  Rather,  surely,  that  the  prin- 
ciple of  faith  or  confidence  is  much  more  deci- 
sively proved  and  exhibited  by  him,  than  by  the 
first  named. 

1^  Discouragements  of  the  kind  now  referred  to, 
may  furlher  be  alleviated  by  some  other  con- 
siderations. If  it  were  the  fact  that  prayer 
cannot  be  true  or  effectual,  unless  attended  with 
some  degree  of  pleasurable  excitement,  then, 
(as  it  would  be  strictly  wdiat  I  have  termed  it, 


NOT    DISCOURAGE    PRAYER.  189 

indulgence  in  a  privilege,)  there  could  be  little 
or  no  place  for  our  Lord's  injunction,  "  that 
men  ought  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint ;'" 
or  for  the  parallel  admonition  of  St.  Paul  re- 
specting it,  that  believers  should  "  watch  there- 
unto with  all  perseverance."  In  an  employment 
which  was  always  gratifying,  there  could  be 
little  danger  of  our  fainting,  except,  indeed, 
from  the  exhausting  action  of  continued  plea- 
sure on  our  present  feeble  faculties.  And  it 
was  obviously  not  to  such  fainting  that  our 
Saviour  referred,  but  to  that  which  arises  from 
weariness  in  an  arduous  pursuit,  when  not  im- 
mediately or  speedily  requited.  If  prayer  w^ere 
habitually  a  highly  pleasing  occupation,  we 
must  employ  a  strenuous  self-denial  in  leaving 
it  for  the  ordinary  duties  of  life. 

Some  contemplative  and  fervid  minds  have 
actually  had  to  practise  this  self-denial  in  turn- 
ing from  the  pleasures  of  devotion,  even  to  the 
labours  by  which  they  were  spiritually  to  bene- 
fit others,  and  much  more  to  those  secular  en- 
gagements which  they  deemed  quite  inferior. 
Such  was  their  kind  of  trial :  and  a  most  envia- 
ble kind  of  trial  it  appears;  inasmuch  as  the 
very  temptations  of  such  persons  have  been 
towards  the  highest  good,  and  their  very  ten- 
dencies to  error  have  contained  the  proof  of 
their  spirituality. 


190  WANT    OF    JOY    SHOULD 

Our  trials  may  be  of  an  opposife  and  humilia- 
ting character.  But  it  is  a  lesson  which,  in  the 
school  of  Christ,  we  are  often  early  and  im- 
pressively taught,  and  may  need  to  be  taught 
vet  more,  that  we  are  not  to  be  the  choosers  of 
our  discipline ;  that  we  are  not  to  select  the 
class  in  which  we  will  be  piacea,  nor  the  tasks 
we  will  attempt,  nor  the  mode  of  their  inculca- 
tion, nor  the  sort  of  correction  we  will  endure. 

If  we  Vr'ere  indulged  in  this  selection,  who 
doubts  that  we  should  decline  all  chastisement 
but  what  is  almost  nominal,  all  tasks  but  what 
are  brief  and  easy,  and  involving  in  them  some 
portion  of  excitement  and  self-applause  ?  By  a 
half  unconscious  artifice,  we  should  allot  to  our- 
selves those  penalties,  and  those  performances, 
v.'hich,  while  they  might  prove  grievous  or  diffi- 
cult to  some  others,  would  be  comparatively 
light  to  us,  and  at  the  same  time  w^ould  foster 
self-complacency.  Our  self-imposed  crosses 
would  be,  like  those  made  of  amber  by  the 
I^apists  of  Sicily,  of  the  lightest  material  that 
could  gratify  pride. 

But  in  all  this  there  would  be  nothing  to  pro- 
mote the  spirit  which  befits  all  creatures,  and, 
most  of  all,  apostate  creatures ; — the  spirit  of 
unreserved,  undissembled  submission  to  the  just 
sovereignty  of  God. 


NOT    DISCOURAGE    PRAYER.  191 

Let  me  then,  in  spiritual,  as  well  as  in  tempo- 
ral things,  seek  that  temper  which  knows  "  how 
to  be  abased,"  as  well  as  "how  to  abound." 
Let  me  persevere  in  prayer,  "  watching  there- 
unto," from  pure  confidence  in  the  Author  of 
good  ;  from  mere  faith  in  his  perfections,  though 
not  feelingly  discerned ;  from  a  desire  of  that 
final  blessedness  which  will  glorify  Him,  without 
impatience  even  for  the  smallest  portion  of  that 
present  joy,  which  might  "  exalt  me  above  mea- 
sure."— It  may  be  added  that  it  is  not,  perhaps, 
sufficiently  considered  by  susceptible  minds, 
how  small  a  portion  of  heavenly  joy,  (awakened 
by  a  disclosure  of  divine  favour  and  approach- 
ing bUss,)  might  produce  mental  alienation  or 
bodily  disease. 

But  we  may  be,  sometimes,  tempted  to  argue 
— that  destitute  as  I  am  of  lively  enjoyment  in 
devotion,  where  is  my  pledge  or  token  of  pre- 
paredness for  the  sacred  pleasures  of  heaven? 
Is  there  not  rather  a  fearful  intimation  of  my 
spirit  being  un-attuned  for  the  employments  of 
that  bhssful  society?  Rather  let  me  admit, 
that  perseverance  in  pious  exercises,  under  con- 
tinued humiliation  and  discouragement,  may  be 
accepted  as  a  proof,  that  a  divine  hand  upholds 
my  steps,  though  it  scatters  no  flowers  on  my 
path ;  that  it  gives  strength,  though  not  buoy- 


192  WANT    OF    JOY    SHOULD 

ancy ;  that  a  sacred  influence  prompts  my  de- 
sires, though  it  does  not  sensibly  gratify  them.- 

If  we  saw  a  youth,  in  hours  of  full  health  and 
vivacity,  and  under  some  peculiar  stimulus  from 
circumstances,  applying  himself  to  scientific  re- 
searches wdth  ardour  and  delight,  we  might  pre- 
dict— that  he  will  distinguish  himself  at  college. 
And  he  too  might  secretly  join  in  the  prediction 
with  a  sanguine  self-congratulating  spirit;  but 
if  we  saw  him  under  languor  and  discourage- 
ment, forcing  himself  to  pursue  his  object,  from 
a  conviction  of  its  excellence,  although  with 
very  little  vigour,  and  with  no  sense  of  pleasure, 
we  should  not  infer,  that  he  could  not  be  pre- 
pared in  other  circumstances,  to  excel  and  to 
enjoy.  We  should  rather  say — Here  is  a  prin- 
ciple which  nothing  can  wholly  subvert,  a  taste 
so  deeply  implanted,  that  nothing  can  eradicate 
it.  Here  is  vegetation  under  the  snow ;  shall 
we  despair  of  the  ripening  of  the  grain  in  due 
time? 

Some  Christians  may,  perhaps,  best  account 
for  this  severe  kind  of  inward  trial,  by  con- 
sidering more  practically  the  express  scriptural 
assurances,  that  real  chastisement  is  the  need- 
ful portion  of  the  sons  of  God.  This  needful 
portion  must  be,  in  some  way,  effectually  dis- 
pensed.    In  several  ages  of  the  church,  it  has 


NOT    DISCOURAGE    PRAYER.  193 

been  externally  and  conspicuously  great  and 
severe.  But  in  the  present  age,  there  are  a 
vast  majority,  to  whom  it  has  not  been  dis- 
pensed, as  of  old,  in  the  form  of  persecution,  in 
fines,  or  bonds,  or  scourges,  or  cruel  mockings. 
Many  have  not  encountered  it  in  the  opposition 
of  friends,  or  the  malice  of  foes.  Many,  hke- 
M^ise,  have  not  endured  poverty  or  open  re- 
proach, nor  suffered  the  most  aggravated  of 
relative  afflictions.  But  where  the  external 
dispensations  of  Providence  are  thus  compara- 
tively indulgent,  w^ere  there  no  internal  pains  to 
balance  the  account,  the  Christian  would  pass 
through  his  state  of  pupilage  without  any 
decisive  experience  of  that  chastisement, 
"  whereof"  (an  apostle  declares)  "  all  are  par- 
takers." And  since  he  plainly  adds,  that  our 
spiritual  adoption  would  be  disproved  by  its 
absence,  how  just  the  fears  to  which  such  an 
exemption  might  give  rise  !  We  may  be  grate- 
ful, therefore,  (amidst  secret  privations  and 
pains,)  if  our  heivvenly  Father  employs  those 
hidden  resources  "  to  humble  us  and  to  prove 
us,"  that  so  we  need  not  question  our  filial 
relation  to  him,  on  account  of  being  screened 
from  a  "  great  fight  of"  external  "  affliction." 

Will  it,  however,  still  be  asked,  since  these 
resources  of  paternal  chastisement  are  bound- 
17 


194  WANT    OF    JOY    IN    PRAYER. 

less,  why  this  particular  trial,  this  destitu- 
tion of  enjoyment  in  his  own  service?  The 
question  still  proceeds  on  a  presumed  ability 
and  right  to  choose ;  and  yet,  if  other  modes  of 
inward  trial  were  offered,  which  would  we 
accept  ?  Would  we  be  assailed  by  sudden  and 
excruciating  temptation  ?  Would  we  exchange 
our  present  privations  for  the  actual  infliction 
of  the  acutest  bodily  pain,  or  for  that  horror  of 
spirit  with  which  some  devout  minds  have  been 
overwhelmed? 

If  those  trials,  as  being  perhaps  more  tempo- 
rary, would  be  really  less  difficult  to  bear,  may 
not  that  be  precisely  the  reason  why  this  trial 
has  in  wisdom  and  mercy  been  assigned  us  ? 
What  is  it  we  prize  and  desire  the  most  ?  Is  it 
spiritual  joy?  Is  it  tenderness  and  compla- 
cency in  devotion?  Is  it  the  sense  of  God's 
gracious  presence  ?  Here  then  is  the  point  at 
which  the  self-renunciation  demanded  in  the 
gospel  is  thoroughly  put  to  the  proof.  We  are 
to  trust  God  with  our  all ;  with  the  best  and 
noblest  enjoyments,  as  well  as  those  which  are 
inferior.  This  is  the  ultimate  test.  He  can  pro- 
long our  deprivations  as  he  sees  to  be  best ;  but 
He  can,  also,  at  any  moment,  terminate  them, 
imparting  "  manifold  more  in  this  present  time, 
and  in  the  world  to  come  life  everlasting." 


DEVOTION    IN    A    LIFE    OF    BUSINESS.  195 


XXIII. 

ON  THE  MEANS  OF  MAINTAINING  A  DEVOTIONAL 
HABIT  AND  SPIRIT  IN  A  LIFE  OF  BUSINESS. 

A  LIFE  of  business,  (taking  the  term  in  its 
largest  sense,)  is  a  more  usual  life  than  some 
persons  imagine.  The  great  majority  of  men 
are  actively  engaged  in  secular  pursuits,  and 
obviously  cannot  command  any  large  share  of 
time  for  retirement.  The  multitude  labour  with 
their  hands ;  and  the  middle  classes,  either  in  a 
lighter  sort  of  labours,  or  in  superintending 
those  of  others,  have  more  exercise  of  mind, 
with  sometimes  not  mucii  less  fatigue  of  body. 
In  the  higher  departments  of  commerce,  and 
still  more  in  the  employments  called  professional, 
this  mental  application  is  often  unremitted  and 
arduous ;  and  even  there  it  is  frequently  com- 
bined with  much  bodily  exertion.  Nor  can  he 
have  seen  much  of  society,  nor  reflected  much 
on  its  constitution,  who  supposes  that  in  the 
sphere  where  acquisition  of  property  ceases  to 
be  the  object  of  industry,  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  a  life  of  business,  properly  so  called.  The 
contrary  is  most  apparent  with  respect  to  sta- 


196  MEANS    OF    DEVOTION 

tions  of  public  service,  such  as  those  of  the 
legislator  and  magistrate;  and  of  Christians 
who  dedicate  themselves,  with  a  far  higher  aim 
than  temporal  emolument,  to  the  ministry  of 
religion. 

But,  not  to  speak  of  these  situations,  even  a 
life  called  private  may  be  a  life  of  business,  by 
the  diversity  of  engagements  which  it  rightly 
and  in  most  cases  necessarily  includes.  Indeed 
the  prudent  management  of  that  property  which 
confers  leisure,  generally  requires  frequent  per- 
sonal attention.  And  even  where  such  attention 
can  be  deputed,  there  will  still  be  many  cases 
which  cannot  be  wholly  devolved  on  others,  but 
to  which  the  principal's  time  is  also  claimed. 
Besides  this,  many  undefined  and  occasional 
occupations,  which  cannot  well  be  avoided, 
though  it  would  be  difficult  to  class  or  enume- 
rate them,  enter  largely  into  every  one's  ex- 
penditure of  minutes. 

An  ingenious  French  WTiter  has  constructed  a 
systematic  register  for  noting  with  great  brevity 
the  several  employments  of  time;  and  the 
classes  of  occupation  to  which  separate  columns 
are  there  assigned,  (even  omitting  those  which 
are  quite  optional,  and  those  in  which  a  devo- 
tional person  is  not  likely  to  engage,)  will  show 
that  even  in  private  life,  or  what  is  termed  a 


IN    A    LIFE    OP    BUSINESS.  197 

life  of  leisure,  each  period  of  twenty-four  hours 
must  usually  be  divided  into  not  a  few  sections. 
"  Sleep,"  and  "  repasts"  cannot  be  excluded, 
though  they  naight  sometimes  be  abridged ; 
while  "  bodily  exercises"  ought  in  many  in- 
stances to  be  prolonged :  "  religious  exercises" 
are  the  object  of  our  present  remarks;  "do- 
mestic relations,"  "  afflxirs  of  economy  and  or- 
der," cannot  with  justice  or  comfort  be  neglected; 
"  reading,"  "  correspondence,"  "  society,"  have 
more  or  less  their  several  claims.  We  may 
add,  that  the  characteristics  of  the  present  age, 
particularly  the  habit  of  an  increased  mental 
culture,  and  the  many  institutions  for  promoting 
the  good  of  the  community,  present  si^h  de- 
mands on  the  time  of  the  less  occupied,  that  a 
man  of  leisure,  (except  secluded  in  his  residence,) 
must  resolutely  shun  what  appear  to  be  just 
claims  for  attention  and  exertion,  in  order  not 
to  lead  something  very  much  like  a  life  of  busi- 
ness. 

Nor  does  this  apply  exclusively  to  our  own 
sex.  Though  it  will  not  be  attempted  to  detail 
the  engagements  of  the  other,  observation  as- 
sures us,  that  without  being  either  frivolous  or 
inappropriate,  they  may  often  be  sufficiently  nu- 
merous and  engrossing,  to  constitute,  if  not  a  life 
of  business,  yet  certainly  a  busy  life. 
17* 


198  MEANS    OF    DEVOTION 

All  this,  the  progress  of  wealth  and  know- 
ledge has  promoted.  In  the  ruder  state  of  soci- 
ety, toil  is  chiefly  bodily,  and,  where  not  urged 
by  an  oppressor,  has  considerable  intervals  of 
inaction.  To  a  numerous  class,  civilization 
renders  daily  life  less  laborious,  but  more  en- 
tirely occupied.  Especially  it  augments,  for 
many,  the  toils  of  the  mind ;  and  even  where 
these  are  not  stated  and  obligatory,  it  yet  multi- 
plies our  mental  occupations  and  cares.  Nor 
do  we  question  the  good  tendencies  of  this ;  for 
it  has  been  truly  said,  "  Man  is  born  for  action, 
as  the  fire  tends  upward,  and  the  stone  descends. 
Not  to  be  occupied  and  not  to  exist  is  for  man 
the  sajnG  thing."  Dr.  Isaac  Barrow  treats  with 
severe  contempt  "  the  passable"  (popular)  "  no- 
tion. What  is  a  gentleman  but  his  pleasure  ?' — 
"If  this  be  true,"  (he  observes,)  "  if  a  gentleman 
be  nothing  else  but  this,  then  truly  he  is  a  sad 
piece,  the  most  inconsiderable,  the  most  despi- 
cable, the  most  pitiable  and  wretched  creature 
in  the  world."—"  But"  (he  adds)  "  in  truth  it  is 
far  otherwise.  To  suppose  that  a  gentleman  is 
loose  from  business  is  a  great  mistake ;  for  in- 
deed no  man  hath  more  to  do,  no  man  lieth 
under  greater  obligations  to  industry  than  he." 

Yet  multipHcity  or  abundance  of  occupation, 
whether  it  be  imposed  on  us  by  circumstances, 


IN    A    LIFE    OF    BUSINESS.  199 

or  voluntarily  engaged  in,  will  be  attended  with 
evil,  if  it  prevent  the  right  performance  of  any 
important  duty ;  if,  from  over-pressure,  or  dis- 
sipation, or  exhaustion  of  mind,  we  have  not 
calmness,  or  elasticity,  or  strength,  for  what  is 
incumbent  on  us.  Different  minds  are  qualified 
to  bear,  (and  even  require,  in  order  to  their 
complete  action,)  different  measures  of  labour 
and  responsibility ;  as  certain  machines  require 
to  be  regulated,  some  by  appending  a  less  and 
some  a  greater  weight. 

Amont?  the  hazards  incident  to  much  and 
diverse  occupation,  (probably  the  greatest,  in  the 
Christian's  view,)  will  be  that  of  its  impairing 
the  spirit  of  devotion.  One  is,  however,  very 
reluctant  to  believe,  (unless  it  be  in  other 
respects  too  weighty  and  various  for  the  mind 
embarked  in  it,)  that  it  can  of  necessity  have 
this  effect;  because  full  employment,  besides 
being  necessary  to  the  comfortable  subsistence 
of  most  persons,  is  in  many  points  so  beneficial 
to  all ;  and  because,  also,  it  agrees  so  well  with 
the  short  term  of  human  fife  and  with  the 
variety  of  human  wants.  It  is,  therefore,  of 
great  importance  to  consider,  whether  we  may 
not,  to  a  certain  point,  diligently  employ  our 
time  and  thoughts  in  active  duties,  without  any 
detriment  to  devotional  habits. 


200  MEANS    OF    DEVOTION 

That  there  is  less  choice  of  time,  and  less 
amount  of  it  in  any  single  undivided  portion, 
for  persons,  so  employed,  to  devote  to  contem- 
plation and  prayer,  is  evident.  There  appear, 
however,  to  be  well-tried  means,  by  which,  if 
faithfully  pursued,  they  may  hope  to  secure  an 
equal  share  of  the  substance  and  spirit  of  piety. 

One  of  these  is  the  rigorous  reservation  of  a 
certain  and  fixed  period,  in  each  day,  for  reli- 
gious exercises,  which  no  claims  of  business,  or 
of  any  other  ordinary  kind  shall  infringe.  In 
order  to  this,  the  practice  of  early  rising,  on 
other  accounts  so  advantageous  and  commend- 
able, is  to  a  Christrian  actively  engaged  in  busi- 
ness, indispensable.  The  earliest  hour  is  with 
some  the  only  season  secure  from  interruption; 
and  even  were  a  late  hour  of  evening  equally 
so,  this  time,  though  doubtless  proper  for  devo- 
tion, is  by  no  means  so  favourable  to  its  vigor- 
ous, enlarged  and  profitable  performance.  If 
there  be  any  season  when  the  mind  is  unwearied 
and  unruffled,  it  must,  (in  an  ordinary  state  of 
health  and  of  domestic  affairs,)  be  the  first 
morning  hour.  An  imperative  rule  of  early 
devotion,  were  everything  really  made  to  bend 
and  yield  to  it,  would  very  much  govern  the 
whole  scheme  of  life ;  for  by  rendering  neces- 
sary, to  most   persons,  a  proportionably  early 


IN   A    LIFE    OF    BUSINESS.  201 

time  of  retiring  to  rest,  it  would  preclude  those 
midnight  toils  and  midnight  recreations,  (though 
the  latter  term  can  be  applied  but  in  irony,)  from 
which  piety  and  health,  it  is  behoved,  have  suf- 
fered like  loss.  While  tenacious  of  this  early 
hour  of  solitude,  the  man  of  business,  except  his 
best  desires  be  dormant,  will  be  fully  awake  to 
its  value.  Well  knowing  that  he  cannot,  like  the 
recluse,  choose  among  other  hours,  he  will 
solemnly  apply  himself  to  improve  the  conse- 
crated moments  which  he  has  redeemed  from 
indulgence,  and  guarded  from  intrusion.  Were 
we  debarred  from  uninterrupted  intercourse 
with  the  dearest  relative,  except  daily  or  week- 
ly at  a  fixed  hour,  as  some  state  prisoners  and 
victims  of  persecution  have  been,  it  is  possible 
that  more  affection  would  be  expressed,  more 
consolation  sought  and  obtained,  in  those  limited 
interviews,  than  while  in  the  possession  of  con- 
stant and  undisturbed  access.  Thus  we  may 
believe,  that,  where  the  heart  really  craves 
spiritual  blessings,  a  season  of  devotion  is  more 
beneficially  used  by  the  man  of  business,  in  his 
treasured  allotment  of  sacred  time,  than  by  the 
hermit  in  his  cell  or  wilderness,  where  nothing 
need  interrupt  a  free  and  protracted  intercourse 
with  Heaven. 

The  case,  how^ever,  of  the  most  busy  among 


202  MEANS    OF    DEVOTION 

Christians  is  far  from  analogous  to  that  of  the 
prisoner,  restricted  to  a  few  stated  interviews 
of  affection.  We  cannot  forget  the  privilege 
which  enables  the  most  active  to  multiply  their 
opportunities  of  devotion ;  that  of  seizing  brief 
intervals  of  mental  engagement,  for  devout 
thoughts  and  aspirations.  No  restraint,  no  so- 
ciety, no  interruption,  can  wholly  forbid  access 
to  a  Friend  ever  present  and  invisible,  *'  to 
whom  all  hearts  are  open."  If  we  could  hap- 
pily so  control  our  minds,  that  they  should  turn 
and  ascend,  (even  in  our  unclaimed  moments,)  to 
the  best  objects  of  meditation  and  desire,  then 
the  most  conscientious  economists  of  time  would 
not  have  to  reckon  those  portions  of  it  lost  in 
which  they  had  resorted  to  no  visible  employ- 
ment. They  are  lost,  only  because  we  are  slow, 
and  poor  proficients  in  the  secret  direction  of 
the  mind :  or  they  are  partially  lost,  because 
we  are  not  so  "fervent  in  spirit"  as  to  render 
the  contemplation  intent,  and  the  prayer  definite; 
which  alone  could  give  a  substantial  character 
to  each. 

Fenelon,  a  man  full  of  cares  himself,  gives 
the  following  counsels  as  the  dictates  of  long, 
personal  experience : — "  We  must  reserve  the 
needful  hours  for  communion  with  God  in 
prayer.       Persons   who    are    in    considerable 


IN    A    LIFE    OF    BUSINESS.  203 

ofRces,  have  so  many  indispensable  duties  to 
fulfil,  that  scarcely  any  time  remains  to  them 
for  communion  with  God,  except  they  strictly 
apply  themselves  to  its  regulation.  It  is  neces- 
sary then  to  be  firm  in  adopting  and  observing 
a  rule.  Our  rigour  in  this  may  seem  excessive ; 
but  without  it  all  falls  into  confusion.  We  are 
dissipated  and  relaxed.  We  lose  our  strength. 
We  are  insensibly  at  a  distance  from  God."  On 
the  other  point,  (frequency  of  mental  devotion.) 
his  advice  is  more  expHcit  and  minute : — "  We 
must  turn  all  our  moments  to  account;  when 
waiting  for  some  one,  when  going  from  place  to 
place,  when  with  persons  so  willing  to  talk  that 
we  have  only  to  let  them  proceed,  one  lifts  up 
the  heart  for  an  instant,  to  God,  and  one  is  thus 
renovated  for  further  engagements.  We  must 
lay  hold  of  all  intervening  moments.  It  is  not 
with  piety  as  with  temporal  affairs.  Those 
demand  undisturbed  and  stated  periods  for 
unbroken  and  long  application  ;  but  piety  needs 
not  an  application  so  lengthened,  close  and 
continuous.  In  a  moment  one  may  recall  the 
presence  of  God,  love  him,  adore  him,  offer  to 
him  what  is  done  or  suffered,  and  tranquillize 
before  him  all  the  agitations  of  the  heart." 

To  the  same  purpose  he  elsewhere  says,  "  If 
you  are  not  at  liberty  to  reserve  large  portions 


204  MEANS    OF    DEVOTION 

of  time,  do  not  neglect  to  economize  the  less. 
Half  a  quarter  of  an  hour  secured,  by  this  care 
and  faithfulness,  from  amidst  pressing  avoca- 
tions, will  be  in  the  sight  of  God  worth  whole 
hours  given  to  him  in  times  of  freedom.  Be- 
sides, several  little  intervals  collected  through 
the  day,  will  together  make  up  something  con- 
siderable. You  will  even  perhaps  derive  from 
this  method  the  advantage  of  remembering  God 
more  frequently,  than  if  you  gave  to  Him  only 
one  assigned  period." 

It  may  be  desirable  to  subjoin  to  this  the 
testimony  of  a  layman,  whose  claims  to  the 
character  of  a  man  of  business  are,  if  possible, 
still  less  questionable.  Sir  Matthew  Hale  of 
England,  filled  the  successive  offices  of  Chief 
Baron  of  the  Exchequer  and  Chief  Justice  of 
the  King's  Bench,  during  fifteen  years ;  and, 
besides  a  previous  judicial  appointment,  had 
passed  his  life  in  the  laborious  pursuits  which 
qualify  one  for  such  a  station.  After  having  for 
a  time  neglected  study  at  Oxford,  (where  he 
was  noted  as  robust  and  expert  in  fencing,)  at 
the  age  of  twenty  he  entered  at  I^incoln's  Inn, 
where  for  many  years  he  studied  sixteen  hours 
a  day.* 

*  Dr.  Burnet's  Life  of  Hale.  We  have  also  his  own  testi- 
mony to  the  variety  and  amount  of  his  employments : — "  I 


IN    A   LIFE    OF    BUSINESS.  205 

In  one  of  this  judge's  papers,  "  The  account 
of  the  good  steward,"  which  the  friend  who 
pubhshed  them  calls  "  his  very  picture,'*  he 
states,  "  I  have  endeavoured  to  husband  this 
short,  uncertain,  important  talent  (time)  as  well 
as  I  could — by  dedicating  and  setting  apart 
some  portion  of  my  time  to  prayer  and  reading 
of  thy  word  ;  which  I  have  constantly  and 
peremptorily  observed,  whatever  occasions 
interposed,  or  importunity  persuaded  the  con- 
trary." We  see,  therefore,  that  he  gives 
advice  founded  on  his  ov»  n  practice,  when  in 
another  place  he  enjoins,  "  Be  obstinately  con- 
stant to  your  devotions  at  certain  set  times ;" 
and  we  may  form  the  same  opinion  as  to  the 
following  observations  and  counsels : — **  What- 
ever you  do,  be  very  careful  to  maintain  in 
your  heart  a  habit  of  religion.  This  will  put 
itself  into  acts,  even  although  you  are  not  in  a 
solemn  posture  of  religious  worship,  and  will 
lend  you  multitudes  of  religious  applications  to 
A-lmighty  God,  upon  all  occasions  and  interven- 
tions, which  will  not  at  all  hinder  you  in  your 

have  been  near  fifty  years  a  man  as  much  conversant  in 
business,  and  that  of  moment  and  importance,  as  most  men ; 
— my  hands  and  mind  have  been  as  full  of  secular  business, 
both  before  and  since  I  was  a  judge,  as  it  may  be  any  man's 
in  England." 
18 


206  MEANS    OF    DEVOTION 

secular  occasions,  but  better  and  further  you. 
It  will  give  a  tincture  of  devotion  upon  all  your 
secular  employments,  and  turn  those  actions 
which  are  materially  civil  or  natural,  into  the 
very  true  and  formal  nature  of  religion  ;  and 
make  your  whole  life  to  be  an  unintermitted 
life  of  duty  to  God.  For  this  habit  of  piety  in 
your  soul  will  not  He  sleeping  and  unactive,  but 
almost  in  every  hour  of  the  day  will  put  forth 
actual  exertings  of  itself  in  applications  of 
short  occasional  prayers,  thanksgiving,  depen- 
dence, resort  unto  that  God  that  is  always  near 
you,  and  lodgeth  in  a  manner  in  your  heart  by 
his  fear  and  love  and  habitual  religion  towards 
him.  Thus,  (he  adds,)  you  doubly  redeem  your 
time.  1.  In  those  natural  and  civil  concerns 
which  are  not  only  permitted,  but  in  a  great 
measure  enjoined  by  Almighty  God.  2.  At  the 
same  time  exercising  acts  of  religious  duties, 
observance  and  veneration,  by  perpetuated,  or 
at  least  frequently  reiterated,  though  short  acts 
of  devotion  to  him.  And  this  is  the  great  art 
of  Christian  chemistry,  to  convert  those  acts 
that  are  materially  natural  or  civil,  into  acts 
truly  and  formally  religious ;  whereby  the 
whole  course  of  this  life  is  both  truly  and 
interpret atively  a  service  to  Almighty  God,  and 
an  uninterrupted  state  of  religion ;  which  is  the 


IN    A    LIFE    OF    BUSINESS.  207 

best  and  noblest  and  nnost  universal  redemption 
of  his  tinne." 

These  extracts,  even  here  abridged,  are  not 
recommended  by  a  neat  or  concise  style ;  they 
were  the  extemporaneous  unrevised  writing  of 
a  man  of  business,  published  not  only  without 
his  knowledge,  but  against  his  wish.  While 
valuable  for  their  piety  and  wisdom,  they  are 
more  than  doubly  so  as  exhibiting  what  must 
be  supposed,  in  a  great  measure,  the  writer's 
habits  and  rules  of  life.  If  there  be  any  case 
in  which  we  may  conclude  a  substantial  and 
steadfast  practice  to  have  been  the  basis  of 
excellent  rules,  it  is  that  of  a  character  so  firm 
and  regular  as  Judge  Hale's,  sketching  a  plan  of 
religious  life,  not  for  the  public  eye,  but  only  for 
the  eye  of  his  children  and  intimate  connexions. 

The  temper  of  mind  which  these  eminent 
persons  have  described,  should  by  no  means  be 
considered  as  adverse  to  a  well-regulated  cheer- 
fulness and  freedom  of  spirit.  Fenelon  warns 
his  correspondents  against  constrained,  austere 
and  absent  manners.  A  fund  of  genuine  cheer- 
fulness should  be  created  in  the  mind,  by  the 
heartfelt  consecration  of  ordinary  acts  and  cir- 
cumstances to  God's  will  and  service.  The  ha- 
bitual reference  of  all  our  customary  pursuits  to 
his  good  pleasure,  is  sufficient  to  adorn  and 
dignify  them  all. 


208  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF 


XXIV. 

ON  THE  PREVALENT  UNBELIEF  WHICH  FRUSTRATES 
PRAYER,  AND  THE  IMPERFECT  FAITH  WHICH  MAY 
BE  ERRONEOUSLY  IMAGINED  TO  DO  SO. 

It  is  evident  that  the  founder  of  our  religion 
and  his  inspired  followers  have  treated  faith  in 
divine  revelation  and  unbelief  of  it  as  qualities  or 
acts  of  a  moral  kind,  the  one  acceptable  to  God, 
the  other  criminal  in  his  sight.  This  statement 
has  been  cavilled  at  by  rejecters  of  the  gospel, 
who  have  plausibly  argued,  that  our  viewing  a 
narrative  or  a  proposition  as  true  or  untrue,  is 
an  act  mei'ely  intellectual,  and  in  no  respect 
moral.  But  even  if  it  were  not  observable,  (in 
contradiction  to  this.)  how  greatly  the  wills  and 
passions  of  men  influence  their  intellectual  acts 
and  habits,  yet  might  those  reasonings  be  suffi- 
ciently refuted  by  considering  the  natural  and 
proximate  effects  of  such  unbelief  If  a  chemist 
should  show  me  a  vase  of  apparently  clear  water 
or  pure  air,  and  say — On  strictly  analyzing  this, 
I  can  detect  no  deleterious  inscredient, — crreat 
as  may  be  his  skill,  and  unable  as  I  may  be  to 
confute  him  scientifically,  yet  if  I  find  my  own 


AND    IMPERFECT    FAITH.  209 

health,  and  that  of  others,  impaired  by  tasting 
or  inhaling  the  fluid,  I  shall  rather  trust  in  ex- 
perience than  in  the  most  skilful  analysis. 

This  comparison  might  serve  if  we  could 
only  ascertain  some  latent  connexion  between 
unbelief  and  moral  evil,  v^ithout  being  able  to 
discover  a  reason  of  that  connexion.  But  the 
reason  is  easily  discerned.  Unbelief  of  divine 
truths  is  a  destitution  of  the  only  efficient  prin- 
ciples by  which  the  moral  and  spiritual  life  can 
be  sustamed.  The  experimentalist  may  display 
a  vessel  from  which  air  has  been  more  or  less 
exhausted,  and  may  tell  us  there  is  nothing  per- 
nicious in  it ;  but  if  we  discover  a  deficiency  of 
support  for  animal  and  vegetable  life,  we  shall 
think  him  guilty  of  a  poor  equivocation.  An 
exclusion  of  those  truths  which  are  super-emi- 
nently  moral,  such  as  the  perfect  holiness  or 
rectitude  of  God,  and  the  proper  duty  of  man 
to  glorify  and  enjoy  him,  (truths  which  revela- 
tion alone  demonstrates,)  is  an  exclusion  of  the 
only  sufficient  aliment  of  true  virtue.  We  may 
as  well  expect  life  and  sound  where  there  is 
no  air,  as  to  expect  the  genuine  exercise  of  real 
goodness  from  him  who  has  no  faith  in  God. 

It  may  however  be  said,  that  the  physical 
vacuum  is  artificial,  and  that  he  who  creates  it  is 
18* 


210  PREVALENT    UrJBELIEF 

accountable  for  its  effects;  but  the  destitution 
of  faith  is  natural  and  inevitable  to  my  mind. 

This  we  should  dispute,  even  were  it  possible 
for  tlie  mind  of  any  man  to  be  in  this  void  or 
negative  state  with  regard  to  moral  opinions : 
we  should  say,  alrhough  it  be  natural,  it  may 
not  be  inevitable.  Prejudice  and  insensibility 
have  closed  and  sealed  the  mind  against  the 
admission  of  v/hat  is  good  and  true:  let  these 
be  removed,  and  the  most  essential  and  valuable 
truilis  will  then  find  entrance.  But  such  a  moral 
void,  such  a  blank  and  neutral  state  of  mind  is 
not  in  fact  possible.  Evil  thoughts  and  princi- 
ples must  rush  into  the  heart  of  man  when  good 
ones  are  excluded ;  nay,  the  former  are  already 
there;  and  to  describe  unbelief  under  the  figure 
of  a  vacuum,  is  merely  to  say  that  the  mind  is 
void  of  the  principles  of  good,  because  it  is  pre- 
occupied and  filled  with  those  of  evil.  The  less 
there  is  of  religious  belief,  the  more  there  must 
be  of  irreligious  sentiment ;  and  the  greater  the 
evolution  or  the  influx  of  this,  by  the  agency  of 
bad  passions  or  of  bad  associations,  the  more 
completely  is  religious  faith  excluded. 

This  figure  is  indeed  founded  on  a  view  of 
faith  and  unbelief,  which  some  have  thought 
incorrect,  namely,  that  they  admit  of  degrees ; 
but  it  is  a  view  which  the  language  of  Scripture 


AND    I^rrESFECT    FAITH.  Sll 

amply  sanctions,*  with  which  experience  ac- 
cords, and  which  enables  us  to  apprehend  how 
an  act  of  prayer  may  be  performed,  and  be  in 
some  sense  real,  while  there  is  yet  a  prevalence 
of  unbelief  which  frustrates  it. 

That  such  is  the  fact,  I  believe  many  persons 
who  practise  secret  prayer,  must  be  painfully 
conscious,  although  its  explanation  may  not  be 
easy  to  them.  He  who  is  not  conscious  of 
sometimes  praying  with  a  measure  of  unbelief 
which  it  may  be  justly  feared  will  render  his 
prayer  ineffectual,  is  either  a  person  of  great 
singleness  and  fervour  of  spirit,  or  else  has  not 
searched  far  enough  into  the  folds  of  his  own 
heart.  For  we  appeal  to  those  who  closely 
examine  the  motive  and  temper  of  their  devo- 
tions, whether  it  be  not  too  possible  to  pray, 
even  in  secret,  with  a  deplorably  imperfect 
exercise  of  faith.  We  may  be  actuated  by 
habit,  together  with  a  general  conviction  of  the 
duty  and  advantage  of  prayer,  and  the  sinful- 
ness of  its  omission ;  by  a  feeble  wish,  even  at 
the  worst,  to  avoid  evil  and  pursue  good ;  bat 
still  we  may  have  a  secret  presentiment  that 
our  prayers  will  not  at  this  time  overcome  the 

*  Various  passag^es  speak  of  "  great"  and  of  "  little  faith  :" 
—of  its  "  increase"  or  *'  growtli :" — of  its  "  weakness," 
"  strength,"  and  "  fulness." 


212  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF 

corrupt  bias.  We  may  pray,  to  soothe  and 
pacify  conscience,  and  to  acquire  the  specious 
plea  that  we  have  sought  divine  help,  but  we 
may  yet  have  no  firm  desire  or  design  to  unite 
our  best  efforts  with  our  prayers,  in  reliance 
on  the  help  which  we  seek.  The  suppressed 
language  of  the  heart,  in  such  cases,  seems  to 
be  this ; — If  God  will  work  irresistibly,  if  He 
will  check  and  turn  my  inclination  so  power- 
fully that  it  shall  be  at  no  cost  of  mine,  I  shall 
be  rescued  and  thankful.  I  will  pray  therefore, 
although  my  prevalent  desire  runs  counter  to 
my  prayer;  but  I  scarcely  expect  success. 
Have  we  never,  before  secret  devotion,  had 
some  such  indistinct  views  in  the  mind  as  these 
— To-day  I  shall  be  tempted  to  the  edge  of  a 
sinful  pleasure,  or  to  the  neglect  of  a  self-deny- 
ing duty?  I  feel  how  great  a  weight  there  is 
in  the  scale  of  wrong  inclination.  I  must  put 
some  weight  into  the  other  scale,  that  of  wisdom 
and  piety.  I  will  therefore  pray  as  I  am  accus- 
tomed to  do.  I  will  ask  for  spiritual  strength 
and  grace  to  be  kept  from  evil :  but  yet  I  fore- 
see that  unless  far  more  be  given  than  I  at  pre- 
sent expect  or  desire,  the  scale  of  inclination 
will  preponderate.  There  is  in  this  temper  of 
heart  an  awful  approach  to  trifling  with  Omnis- 
cience ;  a  sort  of  prevarication  with  Him  "  from 


AND    I3IPEKFECT    FAITH.  218 

\\  horn  no  secrets  are  hid ;"  which  as  far  as  it 
prevails  is  no  less  unbelieving  than  presumptu- 
ous. While  the  mind  acquiesces  in  such  a  kind 
of  self-deceit,  it  cannot  be  supposed,  nor  is  it 
indeed  anticipated,  that  prayer  will  be  effectual. 
Such  being  our  distressing  experimental  know- 
ledge, (that  an  act  of  secret  prayer  may  take 
place,  and  yet  be  frustrated  by  prevailing  unbe- 
lief,) v»e  may  add  that  the  explanation  of  this 
fact  seems  to  depend  on  the  principle  before 
named  ;  that  faith  and  unbelief  admit  of  various 
degrees,  and  may  thus  co-exist  in  the  mind. 
If  they  were  not  only  contrary  qualities,  but 
each  necessarily  complete  and  exclusive  of  its 
opposite,  it  would  not  be  conceivable  that  any 
one  under  the  power  of  unbelief  should  intend 
or  attempt  prayer.  If  he  appear  to  pray,  it 
must  be  an  act  of  mere  hypocrisy.  But  admit- 
ting that  proportions  of  faith  and  unbelief  may 
be  mingled  in  the  same  mind,  that  the  habitual 
predominance  of  faith  implies  or  includes  an 
effective  reception  of  the  gospel,  and  that  there 
are  cases  in  which  this  predominance  is  for  a 
time  doubtful,  and  others  in  which,  without  an 
entire  absence  of  faith,  unbelief  either  habitually 
or  occasionally  prevails, — then  w^e  have  scope 
for  a  supposition  which  agrees  with  experience, 
namely,  that  there  may  be  a  degree  of  faith 


214  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF 

which  prompts  even  to  secret  prayer,  and  yet 
a  prevalent  unbehef  which  frustrates  it.  Now, 
it  is  very  important  for  all  who  are  conscious 
of  a  lamented  measure  of  unbehef,  to  ascertain 
whether  their  state  of  mind  needs  to  be  essen- 
tially changed  and  rectified,  in  order  to  the  suc- 
cess of  prayer ;  so  that  if  it  do,  this  change 
may  first  be  sought ;  that  if  it  do  not,  ground- 
less mistrust  and  fear  may  be  removed. 

The  true  indication  of  that  predominant  un- 
belief, whether  temporary  or  habitual,  which, 
while  it  continues,  must  prostrate  prayer,  is  a 
prevalence  of  insincerity  in  purpose  and  desire ; 
a  practical  bent  towards  evil,  while  we  are  yet 
in  some  lesser  degree  desiring,  and  in  some  sense 
imploring,  that  which  is  good.  Faith,  if  we 
may  extend  the  former  figure  by  alluding  to 
the  phenomena  of  the  air,  is  like  the  rarefied  fluid 
which  causes  the  aeronaut  to  ascend;  unbelief, 
(or  that  stream  of  evil  thoughts  and  tendencies 
for  which  unbelief  makes  room,  and  wdiich 
therefore  may  borrow  its  name,)  is  like  that 
gross  atmosphere  which  enters  or  acts  as  the 
rarer  fluid  is  displaced,  and  brings  him  down  to 
earth.  But  the  principles  of  faith  and  unbelief 
are  less  perceptible  and  measurable  than  the 
fluids  by  which  we  would  illustrate  their  opera- 
tion.    As  it  is  by  his  actual  ascending  or  de- 


AND    IMPERFECT    FAITH.  215 

scending  motion  that  the  aeronaut  must  often 
judge  what  is  the  state  of  the  balloon ;  so  it  is 
by  trying  to  ascertain  the  practical  bias  and 
tendency  of  the  soul  in  our  devotions  that  we 
must  judge  whether  faith  or  unbelief  prevails ; 
consequently,  whether  we  are  likely  to  attain  the 
blessings  we  ask. 

If  some  professed  Christians  were  to  watch 
the  movement  of  their  own  hearts,  w^ould  it  not 
be  found,  that,  even  amidst  their  devotions,  there 
is  an  internal  dispute  with  themselves,  and  seri- 
ous wavering  on  the  whole  question,  whether 
they  will  give  themselves  to  God  or  no  ?  Whe- 
ther they  will,  in  very  deed,  and  heartily,  accept 
the  Son  of  God  as  a  Saviour  and  Ruler,  or  only 
receive  him  vaguely  as  the  world  receives  him  1 
Whether  they  will  unreservedly  dedicate  them- 
selves to  Jehovah,  or  whether  they  will  go  on 
to  compromise  between  Him  and  their  own  cor- 
rupt inclinations  and  various  idols ;  and  all  this 
with  a  certain  leaning  and  preference  toward 
the  wrong  ? 

A  person  who  thus  habitually  and  yieldingly 
wavers  toward  evil,  cannot  reasonably  expect 
success  in  his  entreaties  for  the  blessing  of  a 
holy  God.  Could  we  suppose  a  prince  would  be 
likely  to  grant  the  petitions  of  a  subject  whom  he 
had  secret  means  of  knowing  to  be  still  disafFect- 


216  PREVALENT  U.NBELIEF 

ncl  in  heart,  slill  disposed  to  withhold  or  defer  a 
genuine  and  grateful  submission,  and  sometimes 
meditating  the  transfer  of  his  allegiance  to  an 
usurper?  When,  without  renouncing  prayer, 
we  "  regard  iniquity,"  we  are  in  eflect  making 
the  vain  attempt  to  "  serve  two"  (or  many) 
"  masters."  Such  a  state  has  been  aptly  com- 
pared in  scripture  to  the  motion  of  a  wave, 
"  driven  of  the  wind  and  tossed."  There  is  no 
steady  current  in  the  soul,  bearing  it  towards 
God  and  happiness;  but  it  is  like  a  billow, 
sparkling,  perhaps,  while  scattered,  but  scat- 
tered not  the  less ;  dashed  upon  rocks — rolled 
over  quicksands — lost  in  the  whirlpool. 

But  there  may  be  a  more  apparent  and  pro- 
mising desire  to  serve  God  than  exists  in  the 
character  just  referred  to,  and  yet,  it  may  be, 
attended  with  a  self-delusion  w^hich  frustrates 
prayer.  Piety  may  only  have  its  turn  with 
many  changing  inclinations  of  the  soul.  The 
feelings  and  imagination  are  perhaps  sometimes 
as  sensibly  borne  in  this  as  in  other  directions. 
But  the  fluctuating  desire  of  the  best  blessings 
is  succeeded  by  a  stronger,  more  effectual  and 
more  enduring  bent  toward  what  is  sinful.  He 
who  has  been  accustomed  to  these  unhappy 
variations,  cannot  but,  in  some  measure,  sus- 
pect, even  while  he  feels  pious  wishes,  that  they 


AND  I3IPERFECT  FAITH.  217 

have  no  root,  but  will  be  displaced  and  sup- 
planted, like  many  which  preceded  them  ; — that 
he  is  himself  "  unstable  as  water."  For,  we 
apprehend,  there  is  a  difference  in  kind,  and 
this  not  undiscernible,  between  a  steady  desire 
that  the  word  and  spirit  of  God  should  rule  us, 
and  a  flow  of  feeling  which  is  deceptive  in  its 
rise,  and  soon  fails.  The  fallaciousness  of  this 
may  be  estimated,  even  while  it  exists,  from 
its  similarity  to  other  emotions  which  have 
passed  away.  Such  a  mind  is  not  so  fitly 
imaged  by  a  wave,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  that 
word,  as  by  irregular  tides,  often  flowing  and 
ebbing  with  unlooked-for  frequency.* 

Now  while  the  subject  of  this  allowed  fickle- 
ness, frames  his  devotions  on  the  supposition 
that  his  heart  is  right  in  the  sight  of  God,  he 
cannot  reasonably  expect  the  benefits  of  prayer. 
Let  him  rather,  in  his  best  moments,  never  seek 
to  disguise  from  himself  his  unhappy  instability, 
but  fervently  implore  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  fix 
his  wavering  will,  and  give  constancy  to  every 
pious  affection.  Thus  praying,  he  may  justly 
appropriate  to  himself  much  scriptural  encour- 
agement. 

*  Such  a  remarkable  tide  was  witnessed  in  several  ports 
of  Great  Britain  in  the  summer  of  1824,  running  in  con- 
trary  directions,  hourly,  or  half-hourly. 
19 


218  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF 

If  a  youth,  who  has  given  many  and  recent 
proofs  of  caprice  and  unsteadiness,  go  to  his 
parent,  or  tutor,  and  beg  to  be  assisted  in  some 
art,  or  to  be  indulged  in  some  privilege,  which 
requires  the  exercise  of  opposite  qualities  to 
these,  the  discerning  friend  who  detects  the  pre- 
valent temper  even  in  the  midst  of  his  solicita- 
tions, may  well  reply — No  ;  because  to-morrow 
or  next  week  you  wall  desire  no  such  thing. 
You  are  even  aware  of  this  at  the  present  mo- 
ment, if  you  will  but  consult  experience,  and 
examine  your  disposition  strictly.  Ask  me  ra- 
ther, first  to  teach  you  a  right  estimate  of  things, 
and  influence  you  to  a  just  steadfastness  of  pur- 
pose. When  these  are  acquired,  you  will  be 
prepared  to  receive  other  benefits  and  further 
enjoyments ;  which,  you  well  know,  I  shall  re- 
joice to  communicate. 

The  two  states  of  mind  which  have  been 
glanced  at,  evince  a  strong  prevalence  of  insin- 
cerity and  unbelief;  not  only  sufficient,  while  it 
subsists,  to  frustrate  prayer,  but  also  disproving 
the  fact  of  spiritual  renovation.  It  is  here, 
however,  requisite  to  observe,  that,  under  the 
force  of  particular  temptations,  there  may  arise 
a  sinful  wavering,  and  even  averseness  to  what 
piety  dictates,  in  characters  essentially  differing 
from  each  of  those  described :  even  in  those  who 


AND    IMPERFECT    FAITH.  21'9 

possess  (in  the  judgment  of  charity,)  a  renewed 
mind,  and  who  have  a  consciousness  of  desires  to 
serve  God,  and  to  partake  his  favour,  which  are 
genuine,  and  which  ordinarily  prevail.  The 
heart,  for  a  season,  may  be  faithless  to  these  its 
best  purposes  and  convictions ;  hurried  from  its 
most  settled  aims  by  the  revolt  of  passion,  or 
*•  drawn  away  by  its  own  desire,  and  enticed," 
and  making  but  a  faint  resistance  to  this  mislead- 
ing force.  Now,  when  prayer  is  offered  in  such 
a  disposition,  there  is,  for  the  time,  a  prevalence 
of  unbelief  and  insincerity  in  it ;  and  consequently, 
little  reason  to  hope  for  its  success.  This  is  in- 
deed the  state  of  feeling  which  I  attempted  to 
trace  when  arguing  the  possibility  of  praying  in 
secret  without  prevalent  faith.  We  do  not  speak 
of  a  mere  conflict  in  the  mind,  but  of  a  sort  of 
treachery,  for  the  time,  among  its  better  princi- 
ples ;  a  meditated  concession  and  surrender  of 
its  com'^ictions  to  unbelief  and  sin ;  like  the  tem- 
per of  a  garrison,  who  almost  consent  to  yield 
and  capitulate,  while  they  still  raise  the  signals 
of  opposition,  and  adhere  to  the  forms  of  de- 
fence. 

Whenever  we  are  conscious  of  this  temper, 
we  have  a  most  melancholy  internal  proof  of 
the  duplicity  and  depraved  weakness  of  our 
moral  nature ;  and  such  as  must  always  induce. 


220  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF 

while  we  have  any  tenderness  of  conscience,  or 
remains  of  genuine  faitli,  very  painful  doubts  as 
to  the  reaUty  of  our  conversion ;  for,  its  not  in- 
ducing any  such  doubts,  would  certainly  show 
that  no  faith,  founded  on  scriptural  principles  as 
to  the  evil  of  sin  and  the  necessity  of  holiness, 
exists  within  us. 

Yet  it  would  be  wrong  to  despair  of  our 
spiritunl  stale  on  account  of  the  occasional 
prevalence  of  unbelief  and  insincerity  in  our 
prayers ;  or  to  conclude  that  this,  their  tempo- 
rary character,  (if  it  be  the  subject  of  grief  and 
penitence,)  will  frustrate  those  which  are  olfered 
in  a  bettor  spirit. 

No  Christian,  perhaps,  will  pronounce  him- 
self absolutely  free  from  an  admixture  of  unbe- 
lief and  insincerity  of  heart.  It  is  therefore  very 
iinportant  to  our  spiritual  advancement,  as  well 
as  comfort,  not  to  imagine  that  this  alloy  can 
disprove  our  possession  of  real  faith,  or  render 
all  our  prayers  fruitless. 

I  would,  accordingly,  remark,  that  there  may 
even  be  a  temper  of  mind  not  so  occasional  as 
that  last  mentioned,  and,  indeed,  in  appearance, 
nearly  allied  to  the  two  former,  yet  in  fact  far 
from  being  identical  with  those,  or  similar  in  its 
consequence.  For  there  may  exist  a  yet  un- 
subdued degree  of  practical  vacillation,  or  there 


AND    IMPERFECT    FAITH.  221 

may  be  still  a  remaining  struggle,  as  to  the  en- 
tire renunciation  of  sin,  and  the  unhesitating 
choice  of  God's  service,  or  as  to  the  absolute 
and  confiding  acceptance  of  sovereign  mercy 
through  a  divine  lledeemer — which  should  by 
no  means  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  prayer 
will  be  inefficacious,  provided  there  be  a  sincere 
and  usually  prevailing  desire  in  the  heart  of  him 
who  prays,  (although  combatted  and  almost 
overborne  sometimes  by  opposite  desires,)  that 
the  will  of  God  be  done,  and  his  truth  received ; 
that  heavenly  light  and  guidance  may  be  ob- 
tained, that  grace  and  strength  may  be  given, 
and  that  good  may  overcome  evil :  and  pro- 
vided also  that  these  devotional  desires  be  at- 
tended by  a  practical  ettbrt  to  "  keep  himself 
from  his  iniquity."  It  cannot  be  doubted  that 
somewhat  of  this  struggle  subsists  in  the  mind 
of  young  inquirers,  and  unconfirmed  believers ; 
and  it  would  be  most  erroneous  to  infer  from  it 
that  their  supplications  will  be  vain.  If  amidst 
every  varied  conflict,  the  suppliant  still  in  some 
sense  "  consent  unto  tlie  law  that  it  is  good,"  if 
Jie  in  any  measure  "  delight  in  it  after  the  in- 
war4  man,"  if  he  long  to  be  delivered  from  all 
secret  reluctance  and  enmity  —  there  is  the 
strongest  encouragement  to  a  steadfast  hope 
that  he  shall  be  heard  and  sustained,  and  that 
19* 


222  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF 

"  the  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus" 
will  at  length  "  make  him  free  from  the  law  of 
sin  and  death." 

Still  less  can  it  be  concluded  that  he  who 
endures  inward  conflicts  of  a  more  speculative 
or  theoretical  kind,  is  to  despond  of  the  success 
of  prayer.  We  may,  (whether  by  suggestions 
of  human  or  superhuman  adversaries,  or  by 
some  inherent  causes,)  "  be  shaken  in  mind,"  and 
"  troubled"  as  to  the  very  basis  of  religious  faith 
— such  as  the  truth  of  the  Scriptures,  the  mean- 
ing of  their  weightiest  doctrines,  the  mysteries 
of  Providence,  or  the  very  existence  of  God. 
Some  eminently  pious  men  have  left  it  on  record 
that  such  reasonings  and  suspicions  have  occa- 
sionally harassed  and  distressed  them  even  in 
acts  of  solemn  worship,  or  in  the  prospect  of 
those  exercises.  The  mind  has  been  deeply 
agitated  with  doubts,  and  in  this  sense  has  re- 
sembled the  driven  and  restless  wave ;  but  who 
will  maintain  that,  while  "  instant  in  prayer," 
under  these  adverse  and  oppressive  feelings, 
they  did  not  "  ask  in  faith  ?"  Their  faith  was 
surely  proved  and  manifested  by  their  perseve- 
rance in  the  duty  of  supplication,  and  their  adhe- 
rence to  the  hope  which  prompts  it,  amidst  these 
sore  disquietudes.  Though  moved  like  the  broken 
billows,  they  resembled  more  truly  the  vessels 
anchored  on  those  billows,   or  moored   to  the^ 


AND    IMPERFECT    FAITH.  223 

rock  which  they  vainly  assault ;  though  "  tossed 
with  tempests"  long  and  vehemently,  they  were 
still  securely  holden,  and  at  length,  "  there  was 
a  great  calm." 

And  if  these  internal  conflicts,  even  respect- 
ing fundamental  truths,  cannot  be  supposed  to 
frustrate  prayer,  still  less  can  the  want  of  full 
assurance  as  to  our  personal  interest  in  the  bless- 
ings of  the  gospel,  be  thought  to  do  so.  The 
number  of  Christians  in  modern  days,  who  com- 
bine a  full  assurance  of  salvation  with  a  spirit 
of  unimpeachable  humility,  I  have  not  observed 
to  be  great.  There  would  doubtless  be  much 
oflener  a  happy  approximation  to  it,  if  we  exer- 
cised, together  with  a  more  simple,  grateful  con- 
fidence in  the  divine  promises,  a  higher  measure 
of  devout  vigilance,  and  of  consistency  in  Chris- 
tian deportment.  Those  persons,  however,  if 
such  there  be,  who  account  this  full  assurance 
a  necessary  mark  of  true  faith,  must  at  least  be 
deemed  to  err  far  more  widely,  than  certain 
divines  of  great  piety  who  seem  to  have  thought 
it  unattainable. 

The  painful  fact  remains  unaltered  by  reason- 
ings, that  many  do  entertain  habitual  fears  as  to 
the  genuineness  of  their  own  faith,  (consequently 
as  to  their  real  conver^on  and  eventual  salva- 
tion,) which  we  have  reason  to  hope  are  ground- 
less ;  that  many  others  have  similar  apprehen- 


224  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF 

sions  and  suspicions  which  do  not  appear 
unfounded  ;  and  that  many  whose  general  piety 
we  cannot  question,  are  yet  brought,  by  occa- 
sional declensions  and  relapses,  into  that  state 
of  temporary  doubt  and  despondency  which  is 
their  natural,  although  distressing  effect.  Now, 
different  as  these  characters  and  their  respective 
states  may  be,  there  is  this  agreement  in  them, 
that  each  entertaining  doubts  whether  he  has 
real  faith,  no  one  of  them  can  be  sure  that  he 
really  "  asks  in  faith."  But  it  would  be  a  per- 
nicious subtlety,  fatal  to  his  spiritual  progress, 
working  the  very  evil  which  it  presupposes,  to 
imagine,  that  on  account  of  this  uncertainty, 
prayer  will  be  ineffectual.  It  would  imply  that 
nothing  but  that  "full  assurance  of  faith,"* 
(which  if  it  exist  on  earth  in  the  sense  some 
attach  to  it,  must  be  the  perfection,  the  uUimate 
limit,  of  spiritual  attainment.)  can  in  fact  quahfy 
us  to  ask  with  success  for  spiritual  blessings ;  so 
that  the  pre-requisite  for  effectual  prayer  would 
seem  itself  to  render  prayer  superfluous. 

Let  those  who  are  visited  with  such  self-im- 
peding refinements  of  distrust,  first  undertake  to 
prove  (not  by  vague  and  dark  suspicions,  but 
by  a  strict  demonstration,  which  they  never  can 
produce)  that  they  poss(^  no  grain  or  spark  of 

*  Hebrews  x.  22. 


AND    IMrERFECT    FAITH.  225 

faith ;  and  then  let  them  begin  to  conclude  that 
prayer  will  be  necessarily  fruitless.  They  may 
indeed  be  "  of  little  faith ;"  so  little  as  to  induce 
doubts  of  its  existence ;  but  our  Saviour  ascrib- 
ed miraculous  efficacy  to  that  minute  measure 
of  faith  which  he  compared  to  the  least  of  the 
seeds  that  are  in  the  earth.  And  if  such  a 
measure  of  faith  "  wrought  miracles,"  why  shall 
it  not  obtain  divine  blessings  from  Him  who 
"giveth  to  all  men  hberaily,"  and  who  says, 
"  Every  one  that  asketh  receiveth  ?'  As  a 
further  scriptural  confirmation,  it  may  be  ob- 
served, that  were  the  various  conflicts  of  unbe- 
lief or  fear  with  weak  and  imperfect  faith  which 
have  been  mentioned,  to  be  regarded  as  frustrat- 
ing prayer,  then  he  who  entreated  of  Jesus  the 
cure  of  his  suffering  child,  and  said,  "  Lord,  I 
believe  ;  help  thou  mine  unbelief,"  had  no  ground 
to  expect  success :  for  this  language  itself,  and 
his  previous  address,  "  If  thou  canst  do  any- 
thing, have  compassion  on  us,"  strongl}^  imply  a 
conflict  of  doubt  and  distrust,  both  as  to  the 
power  of  Him  to  whom  he  prayed,  and  as  to 
his  own  possession  of  the  requisite  state  of  mind. 
Yet  the  benefit  which,  (though  with  a  faith  thus 
feeble,)  he  implored  in  earnest  sincerity,  w^as  at 
once  conferred. 

Nothing  which  lias  been  here  advanced  on 


226  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF 

the  compatibility  of  a  low  degree  of  faith  with 
success  in  prayer,  is  to  be  so  construed  as  to  con- 
flict with  the  position  first  defended,  that  unbelief 
in  divine  truth  is  strictly  connected  with  moral 
evil.  The  connexion  is  doubtless  with  different 
modifications  of  evil,  and  these  differing  greatly 
in  malignancy;  but  we  suppose  it  is  never 
wholly  absent. 

With  respect,  for  example,  to  the  last  temper 
of  mind  adverted  to,  that  of  doubt  as  to  the 
reality  of  our  faith  and  conversion ;  I  think  we 
may  afRrm  that  it  is  always,  in  part  at  least, 
excited  by  the  subsistence  and  perception  of 
moral  evil  in  ourselves.  It  could  have  no  place 
in  a  mind  perfectly  renewed  in  holiness,  abso- 
lutely freed  from  sin,  unless  we  can  suppose  that 
such  a  sinless  mind  might  be  subjected  to  the 
malady  of  utterly  false  perception.  The  void 
of  faith  and  piety,  which  we  sometimes  may 
mournfully  apprehend  to  exist  within  us,  is  par- 
tially real:  and  so  far  as  it  is  real,  it  is  formed 
by  that  "  body  of  sin"  which  our  inw^ard  view 
discovers.  Without  doubt,  in  morbid  cases,  the 
spectre  is  exceedingly  magnified  and  multiplied  ; 
so  that  evil  may  be  conceived  to  reign  through- 
out the  soul  when  this  is  very  far  from  being  the 
case ;  though  there  is  more  jr  less  of  evil  exist- 
ii)g,  upon  w^hich  the  illusion  founds  itself     There 


AND    IMPERFECT    FAITH.  227 

is  a  real  foe,  though  fear  has  invested  him  with 
a  seeming  ubiquity  and  dominion  which  are  not 
real.  However  distressful  these  doubts,  and 
however  inevitable  they  may  appear,  sin  is  their 
prime  source;  and  having  such  an  origin  as 
well  as  subject,  it  is  no  v^onder  that  they  are 
deeply  afflictive. 

And  in  regard  to  speculative  questionings  or 
misgivings  concerning  religious  truth,  even 
though  they  should  be  invariably  matter  of  un- 
feigned sorrow  and  repugnance,  (which  would 
go  nearest  to  prove  that  he  whose  mind  they 
assailed  was  not  morally  culpable  in  respect 
to  them,)  yet  might  it  be  asked — Was  there 
not  a  past  period-  of  life,  when  they  were 
welcome  to  the  mind?  Did  not  pride  and 
sensuality  formerly  invite  them?  Were  not 
early  habits  of  thought  and  practice  formed,  by 
which  these  "  evil  reasonings"  were  nurtured 
in  the  heart  ?  And  now,  according  to  the  well- 
known  laws  of  human  nature,  must  it  not  be 
expected  that  the  same  trains  of  speculation, 
however  grievous  to  the  renewed  mind,  should 
continue  sometimes  to  haunt  it ;  especially 
when  pride  or  sensuality,  by  the  agency  of 
temptation,  evolves  itself  in  the  soul,  producing 
(to  revert  to  a  former  illustration)  a  propor- 
tionate void  of  faith  ? 


228  PREVALENT    UNBELIEF, 

If  we  ascribe  these  unbelieving  thoughts  to 
Satanic  suggestion,  (as  their  sudden  and  violent 
incursion  has  induced  many  Christians  to  do,) 
this  may  seem,  at  first  sight,  to  take  away  the 
moral  evil  of  their  mere  existence  from  the 
individual ;  yet  it  should  be  remembered,  that 
if  the  guileful  enemy  of  truth  inject  a  poison, 
it  is  because  he  detects  room  for  its  admission ; 
there  is,  as  it  were,  some  recess  within  the  soul, 
which  he  "  findeth  empty"  of  pious  truths  and 
sentiments,  because  replete  with  a  subtle  ele- 
ment of  evil,  in  affinity  with  the  dark  mischief 
he  would  infuse. 

We  may  in  this  manner  regard  all  unbelief 
as  having,  although  in  different  modes  and 
measures,  a  connexion  with  sin :  and  yet  in 
perfect  consistency  with  this,  we  m.ay  maintain 
the  encouraging  view  which  has  been  urged, 
that  nothing  but  an  unbelief  habitually  predo- 
minant can  frustrate  prayer. 

And  on  this  last  state  of  mind,  (which  was 
the  first  delineated,)  I  would  observe,  in  con- 
cluding, that  however  it  may  annul,  (while  it 
subsists,)  the  benefit  of  prayer,  it  cannot  annul 
the  duty.  He  who  is  conscious  of  a  general 
repugnance  to  God's  will,  or  of  a  very  unstable, 
fallacious  wish  to  fulfil  it,  is  not  therefore  re- 
leased from  the  duty  of  praying ;  for  no  crea- 


AND    IMPERFECT    FAITH.  229 

ture  capable  of  volition  can  be  exempt  from 
the  duty  of  seeking  his  Creator's  approbation, 
and  his  own  true  happiness.  So  long  as  his 
prayers  (if  oftered)  continue  to  be  forms  of 
hypocrisy  or  acts  of  self-delusion,  they  must 
continue  fruitless.  But  he  is  bound  to  pray  for 
"  a  new  heart ;"  for  the  true  "  quickening"  of 
the  "  incorruptible  seed ;"  in  order  that  he  may 
afterwards  receive  those  successive  "  showers 
of  blessing"  which  the  Giver  of  Hfe  will  not 
withhold ;  which  will  rear  it  into  a  fair  and 
vigorous  plant,  and  cause  it  to  bring  forth  the 
fruits  of  righteousness.  If  he  refuses  to  entreat 
that  primary  gift,  it  is  a  moral  incapacity,  a 
depraved  w^ill,  which  influences  him.  If  he 
really  and  perseveringly  implores  it,  the  word 
of  God  declares  "  it  shall  be  given ;"  and  then, 
without  question,  he  will  gratefully  record,  that 
it  was  God's  preventing  mercy  which  inclined 
him  to  seek  the  heavenly  boon. 

If,  however,  we  cannot  disprove,  and  dare 
not  deny,  that  the  beginnings  of  "  a  right  spirit" 
have  been  given  us,  that  w^e  may  have  some 
abiding  desire  for  spiritual  happiness,  and  some 
kind  and  degree  of  faith,  (how^ever  weak  and 
diminutive,)  in  the  great  things  which  revelation 
declares,  then  it  behoves  us  to  pray  wdth  a  more 
hopeful  and  confiding  spirit ;  to  grasp,  (though 
20 


230  ON    THE    DEVOTIONAL    TEMPERS 

it  be  with  a  feeble  hand,)  the  inestimable  promise; 
and  by  the  very  act  and  exercise  of  faith,  and 
the  aids  it  will  procure,  to  give  to  it  a  new  ex- 
pansion through  the  soul,  that  it  may  rise  supe- 
rior to  the  noxious  vapour  which  now  depresses 
and  obscures  it. 


XXV. 

ON  THE  DEVOTIONAL  TEMPERS   PROPER   TO  CON- 
VALESCENCE. 

Not  only  is  the  human  frame,  in  some  in- 
stances, so  constituted,  as  to  be  able  to  resist  or 
exclude,  in  a  great  measure,  painful  and  debili- 
tating sensations  ;  but  there  appear  to  be  minds 
possessing  so  happy  a  degree  of  independence 
on  the  body,  as  to  be  far  less  affected  than 
others  by  equal  measures  of  fatigue  or  weakness, 
disorder  or  pain.  Whether  this  privilege  be 
the  effect  of  a  mental  and  moral  strength  intrin- 
sically greater  or  more  able  to  control  or  with- 
draw jtself  from  mere  sensation— or  whether  it 
arises  from  a  less  strict  and  sympathetic  con- 


PROPER    TO    CONVALESCENCE.  231 

nexion  between  thought,  or  those  organs  which 
develope  it,  and  the  other  organs,  no  earthly 
physiologist  can  tell.  The  question  cannot  even 
be  stated  with  precision.  It  turns  on  that  close 
secret  within  us,  which  the  acutest  reasoner 
should  be  liumbled  by  his  incapacity  to  unlock, 
viz.,  the  subsistence  of  a  thinking  power  in  a 
material  structure. 

But  many  minds,  (and  those  not  among  the 
least  perspicacious,)  so  far  from  enjoying  that 
peculiar  independence,  are  exceedingly  influ- 
enced by  changes  of  bodily  feeling.  Slight 
ailments  produce  in  them  such  indisposedness 
for  thought,  as  nothing  but  the  strong  sense  of 
duty  or  the  impulse  of  circumstances  can  over- 
come. When  the  sensations  are  heightened  into 
positive  pain  or  unequivocal  debility,  then  intel- 
lectual vigour  (except  by  some  special  counter- 
action which  cannot  be  ordinarily  looked  for) 
is  proportionately  broken  or  relaxed. 

There  is  beauty  in  that  simple  scriptural 
figure,  (as  applied  to  the  moral  and  religious 
constancy  of  a  patriarch,)  "  his  bow  abode  in 
strength ;"  and  it  is  no  unapt  image  of  that 
bodily  vigour  without  which  devotional  energy 
is  often  found  to  languish.  Perhaps  this  sense 
is  included  in  the  figure  as  used  by  Job,  "  My 
glory  was  fresh  in  me,  and  my  bow  was  re- 


232  ON    THE    DEVOTIONAL    TE3IPERS 

newed  in  my  hand."  The  bow  is  a  delicate, 
though  a  primitive  weapon.  Too  much  tension 
makes  it  unelastic  ;  and  dampness  may  so  relax 
the  string,  that  it  will  abide  in  strength  no  longer. 

How  painful  to  the  Christian,  if  in  seasons 
when  he  is  most  admonished  of  dependence  on 
the  Sovereign  of  life,  and  w^hen  mortal  disease, 
though  not  perhaps  imminent,  is  far  more  feel- 
ingly anticipated  than  in  days  of  health,  he  thus 
finds  a  diminished  power  and  readiness  to  com- 
mune with  his  divine  supporter ;  with  Him  who, 
when  "flesh"  shall  irrecoverably  "fail,"  can 
alone  be  "  the  strength  of  his  heart,  and  his  por- 
tion for  ever !" 

Yet,  although  the  tone  of  health  w^hich  con- 
duces to  mental  animation  be  rightly  termed  a 
privilege,  we  can  conceive  that  to  some  minds 
its  partial  absence  may  be  always  salutary; 
and  that  its  greater  occasional  interruptions  are, 
to  all  Christians,  a  means  of  spiritual  good ; 
though  it  may  only  serve  to  disturb  that  "  tem- 
ple-haunting" pride,  which,  even  amidst  the 
warmth  of  real  devotion,  "  hath  found  a  nest  for 
herself."  The  snares  of  false  worship  are  re- 
mote from  our  eyes  and  from  our  thoughts. 
Even  if  our  birth-place  did  not  preclude  tempta- 
tion to  gross  and  palpable  idolatries,  few  could 
"  set  up  a  golden  image  in  the  plain :"  but  many 


PROPER    TO    CONVALESCENCE.  233 

may  resemble  the  Assyrian  in  the  dreams  of 
pride,  setting  up  a  visionary  image  in  the  heart. 
Not  that  these  dreams  are  sent  of  God,  but  He 
permits  our  vanity  to  raise  them,  and  would 
teach  us  the  lowUness  of  wisdom  by  their  fall. 
When  the  faculties  are  well  tuned,  and  the  ex- 
pansion of  thought  and  exuberance  of  feeling  in 
prayer  or  contemplation  elate  the  soul,  then, 
amidst  all  our  humiliating  tenets  and  fluent  con- 
fessions, the  personal  idol  shines  unseen,  a  "  form" 
not  indeed  "  terrible,"  but  full  of  grace,  whose 
"  brightness  is  excellent."  But  let  sickness  assail 
the  body ;  let  a  distempered  langour  overspread 
the  mind ;  and  where  is  our  household  god  of 
talent  and  elocution  now  ?  His  showy  attri- 
butes have  vanished ;  his  wand  and  his  wings 
are  "  broken  together ;"  he  is  become  "  like  the 
chaff  of  the  summer  threshing-floor."  Thus 
are  we  taught,  like  the  men  of  Lystra,  to  "  turn 
from  these  vanities,"  (which,  though  in  our  case 
latent,  are  not  unreal,)  and  to  bow  in  fainting 
humihty  before  the  Hving  God ;  "  cast  down" 
under  the  conviction  that  self  is  nothing,  and 
that  He  is  All  in  All. 

But  there  is  a  further  good  tendency  in  the 
disabilities  and  depression  which  sickness  cre- 
ates;   whether   as   they  respect  the  duties   of 
active  life  or  those  of  worship. 
20* 


234       ON  THE  DEVOTIONAL  TEMPERS 

Even  were  it  certain  that  tlie  servants  of  God 
on  earth,  (taken  collectively,)  honour  him  more 
as  agents  than  as  sufferers,  still  might  each 
intermission  of  bodily  and  mental  strength  emi- 
nently promote  his  service  on  the  whole,  did  we 
always  rise  or  emerge  with  a  chastened  ardour, 
wdth  a  purer,  steadier  zeal,  to  improve  the  pre- 
cious intervals,  which  may  each  be  brief,  and 
w^hich  must  all  terminate  ere  long. 

Some  of  the  northern  rivers  have  their 
course  suspended  in  successive  lakes.  The 
stream  which  was  rapid  before,  but  tinged  with 
earthly  mixtures  from  many  rills,  here  becomes 
passive.  Lately,  it  could  bear  forward  the 
laden  barge  with  swiftness;  now,  the  lightest 
canoe  scarcely  drifts  upon  the  outstretched 
waters.  But  this  inaction  is  purifying.  All 
that  was  turbid  subsides.  And,  wdien  liberated 
from  their  bed  of  supineness,  these  clear,  smooth 
waves  rush  with  accumulated  strength  down 
new  and  longer  rapids,  gliding  amidst  all  ob- 
stacles, strong  for  every  burden,  hastening  to 
the  sea. 

Will  it  not  be  thus,  in  some  measure,  with  the 
convalescent  Christian?  When  mercy  first 
"  opened  his  heart,"  as  it  "  clave  the  rocks  in 
the  wilderness,"  and  waters  of  devotion  and 
benevolence  gushed  forth,  they  flowed  (it  may 


rROrEE    TO    CONVALESCENCE.  235 

be)  with  a  degree  of  turbulence;  their  course 
was  not  quite  noiseless  ;  they  were  not  unstained 
by  the  passions  or  unswollen  by  pride ;  but  He 
whose  word  created  and  called  forth  the  stream, 
"  turneth  it  whithersoever  He  will."  He  has 
brought  it  into  a  wude  and  lengthened  valley 
"  of  the  shadow  of  death ;"  He  has  said,  "  Be 
still,  and  know  that  I  am  God ;"  He  has  made  it 
languish,  but  not  stagnate,  only  to  be  quieted 
and  defecated  there.  And  now  when  He  is 
pleased  to  give  it  egress,  and  bids  it  renew  its 
full  career  in  a  channel  prepared  for  its  accele- 
rated force,  will  it  not  flow  forth,  not  merely 
more  swift  and  strong,  but  more  deep  and  pure 
and  silent,  than  if  it  had  never  been  "  poured 
out"  in  that  unwelcome  suspension  ? 

Surely  thus,  at  least,  it  behoves  the  Christian 
to  resume  his  course  after  a  season  of  restraint 
and  inactivity.  Besides  having  been  incapaci- 
tated for  other  accustomed  pursuits,  he  has, 
perhaps,  found  it  often  impracticable  to  lift  up 
his  soul  continuously  to  God.  By  reading  or 
even  hearing  the  Scriptures,  his  weakened  and 
susceptible  frame  has  been  quickly  exhausted. 
The  alleviation  of  pain,  or  present  repose,  has 
been  more  thirsted  for,  than  that  sovereign 
good  which  he  accounts  his  treasure;  more 
consciously  valued  than  those  promises  which 


236  ON   THE    DEVOTIONAL    TEMPERS 

suffering  ought  to  endear.  As  yet  he  cannot 
have  forgotten  these  nnortifying  accompani- 
ments of  disease.  The  heahhful  should  not 
wilhngly  forget  them.  Rather  ought  they  (by 
express  effort)  sometimes  to  recal  or  anticipate 
feeUngs  which  (except  by  a  most  unusual  immu- 
nity) must  be  shared  by  themselves  in  days  or 
years  that  "  draw  nigh."  Bui  to  the  convales- 
cent this  is  no  effort.  Those  recent  feelings  are 
still  vividly  depicted  on  his  mind.  If  then  he 
be  yet  in  doubt  as  to  his  genuine  participation 
of  revealed  blessings,  w^hat  recollection  can 
more  strongly  prompt  the  "diligence"  which 
would  "  make  his  calling  and  election  sure  ;" — 
sure  in  the  impartial  testimony  of  conscience, 
and  by  the  faithful  tests  of  Scripture  ?  What 
can  stimulate  us  to  this  augmented  diligence,  if 
not  the  uneffaced  perception  that  a  few  hours 
of  sickness  may  suffice  to  enervate  the  mind, 
perhaps  irretrievably  till  death  1  If,  on  the 
contrary,  an  enlightened  and  cheering  hope  had 
been  attained,  and  was  not  obscured  during 
bodily  illness,  or  is  already  brightened  with 
reviving  health,  this  happy  state  can  never 
make  pointless  the  striking  admonitions  which 
are  addressed,  by  such  changes,  to  the  heart  of 
a  true  servant  of  God.  He  who  only  assumed 
*'  the  form  of  a  servant,"  that  beloved  Son  who 


PROPER    TO    CONVALESCENCE.  237 

is  ihe  Father's  "  sole  complacence,"  asked,  with 
reference  to  his  own  course,  "  Are  there  not 
twelve  hours  in  the  day?"  He  spoke,  with 
intentness,  of  "  the  works  which  the  Father  had 
given  him  to  finish  :"  and  he  said  in  prayer,  with 
holy  joy,  at  the  retrospect  of  his  labours,  and 
the  foresight  of  that  decease  which  he  was  just 
accomplishing — "  I  have  glorified  Thee  on  the 
earth,  I  have  finished  the  work  which  Thou 
gavest  me  to  do." 

The  distance  from  the  moral  perfection  and 
eflective  greatness  of  His  works,  to  the^adulte- 
ration  and  littleness  of  ours,  is  by  no  means  for- 
gotten. It  does  but  give  strength  to  our  inference, 
that  the  fullest  certainty  of  already  possessing 
the  divine  approbation  can  be  no  plea  for  slight- 
ing one  precious  and  precarious  opportunity  "to 
do  God  service."  What  an  unfilial  contrast 
would  such  a  plea  present,  not  only  to  the  tem- 
per of  God's  "  own  Son,"  but  to  that  of  his  faith- 
ful missionary;  who  made  the  sure  and  swift 
approach  of  full  feUcity  his  chosen  argument 
for  new  devotedness  ! — "  Now  is  it  high  time  to 
awake  out  of  sleep,  for  now  is  our  salvation 
nearer."  * 

Whether  the  period  of  bodily  convalescence 

*  Romans  xiii.  11. 


238       ON  THE  DEVOTIONAL  TEMPERS 

be  that  of  spiritual  confidence  and  gladness,  or 
not — it  must,  in  either  case,  be  a  season  for  pecu- 
liar gratitude  ;  in  the  one,  that  time  and  strength 
are  given  for  attainments  yet  unsecured ;  in 
both,  that  what  was  "  grievous"  is  removed, 
and  that  new  means  are  given  us  of  serving  oui 
Divine  Deliverer.  These  will  now  be  far  the 
more  justly  appreciated.  The  Christian  may 
become,  (to  the  thoughtless  visitors  of  that 
chamber  which  he  is  about  to  quit,)  like  the 
prophetic  watchman  in  the  oracle  of  Dumah. 
They  ^sk  him — "  What  of  the  night  ? — How 
have  you  passed  these  hours  of  wearisome  seclu- 
sion?'— He  answers,  "  The  morning  cometh: — 
and  also  the  night !  If  ye  will  inquire,  inquire 
ye.  Return, — come."  The  prophecy,  as  such, 
is  among  the  most  obscure ;  but  this  moral  use 
of  it  would  be  no  enigma.  You  ask  me,  *•  What 
of  the  night  ?" — it  were  fruitless  to  describe  the 
sensations  of  this  constrained  retirement,  which 
you  could  not  realise.  Rather  let  me  say,  with 
grateful  acknowledgment,  "  The  morning  com- 
eth." I  hope  to  use  what  may  remain  of  this 
life's  brief  and  changeful  day,  with  far  more 
fervour  of  spirit  and  oneness  of  purpose.  For 
now  I  am  struck  with  the  heartfelt  conviction, 
that,  there  cometh  "also  the  night ;" — that  night, 
which,  for  these  mortal  eyes,  shall  be  followed 


PROPER    TO    CONVALESCENCE.  239 

by  no  daybreak,  till  they  are  unsealed  to  the 
awful  splendour  of  "the  new  heavens  and  the 
new  earth."  Oh,  could  I  transfuse  into  your  mind 
the  sentiments  which  now  fill  my  own,  and  per- 
petuate their  impressiveness  in  both  !  "  If  you 
will  inquire"  into  the  will  of  the  Supreme — into 
the  moral  state,  the  real  wants,  the  vast  capa- 
bilities of  your  spirit — into  the  crisis  and  the 
prospects  of  an  illimitable  being; — "inquire" 
now — while  health  remains  unbroken,  and  your 
powers  are  unoppressed !  "Return"  from  the 
wanderings  of  fancy,  from  the  day-dream  of 
sublunary  hope,  and  muse  awhile  on  those  un- 
imaginable visions  which  the  night  of  death  will 
bring !  "  Come,"  now,  before  your  day  declines, 
"  and  the  shadows  of  evening  are  stretched  out," 
and  accept  from  redeeming  mercy  the  pledges 
of  admission  to  that  heavenly  dwelHng,  of  which 
it  is  predicted,  "  There  shall  be  no  night  there." 
"Behold  the  Lamb  of  God !"— he  is  "the  hght 
thereof;"  he  must  be  the  light  to  guide  you 
thither:  his  righteousness  your  sole  title,  his 
spirit  your  sole  meetness,  for  that  inheritance. 

Thus  might  a  convalescent  Christian,  (imbued 
with  the  deepened  sense  of  revealed  truths,)  be 
led  to  address  others,  and  in  part  to  admonish 
himself  At  least  that  ancient  warning  from  a 
royal  pen  cannot  fail  to  be,  from  recent  experi- 


240  ON    THE    DEVOTIONAL    TEMPERS 

ence,  more  deeply  graven  on  his  heart — "  What- 
soever thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy 
might,  for  there  is  no  work,  nor  device — in  the 
grave," — nor,  probably,  in  the  nearer  and  dark- 
er paths  which  lead  to  it. 

Not  that  we  can  infer  with  certainty,  from  a 
past  degree  of  inability  for  devout  exercises  in 
sickness,  that  this  will  be  augmented  in  the 
closing  scene,  or  even  that  it  will  not  be  great- 
ly removed.  The  waters  which  are  spread 
powerless  and  passive  in  the  valley  (to  resume 
our  former  figure)  may  there  be  made  the  mir- 
ror of  a  glowing  sunset,  and  "  airs  fi'om  heaven" 
may  waft  the  bark  on  their  calm  surface,  which 
itself  seems  motionless. 

While  Doddridge,  emaciated  by  deep  seated 
consumption,  was  on  his  voyage  to  a  grave  at 
Lisbon,  he  several  times  said  to  his  beloved 
wife — "  I  cannot  express  to  you  what  a  mor- 
ning I  have  had ;  such  delightful  and  transport- 
ing views  of  the  heavenly  world  is  my  Father 
now  indulging  me  with  as  no  words  can  ex- 
press." Before  his  embarkation,  he  said  to  a 
friend — "  My  soul  is  vigorous  and  healthy,  not- 
withstanding the  hastening  decay  of  this  frail 
and  tottering  body.  The  most  distressing  nights 
to  this  frail  body  have  been  as  the  beginning  of 
heaven  to  my  soul.     God  hath,  as  it  were,  let 


PROPER    TO    CONVALESCENCE.  241 

heaven  down  upon  me  in  those  nights  of  weak- 
ness and  waking." 

Still  more  instructing  and  consolatory,  be- 
cause more  copious,  arc  the  dying  conversa- 
tions of  Halyburton,*  who  has  himself  recorded 
his  previous  severe  and  frequent  conflicts, 
through  many  years,  with  speculative  unbelief 
and  various  temptation.  While  enduring  ex- 
treme debility  and  pain,  he  said  to  his  physician 
— "  Verily  there  is  a  reality  in  religion.  Few 
have  the  lively  impressions  of  it. — The  httle 

*  He  was  a  learned  and  pious  minister  in  the  Scotch 
church,  professor  of  divinity  at  St.  Andrew's;  who  died  Sep- 
tember 23,  1712,  aet.  37.  In  the  year  preceding  his  death, 
was  born  his  philosophic  countryman,  who  found  it  "  as 
clear  as  any  purpose  of  nature  can  be,  that  tlie  whole  scope 
and  intention  of  man's  creation  is  limited  to  the  present 
life ;  and  that  those  who  inculcate  the  doctrine  of  a  future 
state  have  no  other  motive  than  to  gain  a  livelihood,  and  to 
acquire  power  and  riches  in  this  life." — See  Monttdy  Review 
for  June,  1784,  vol.  70,  p.  428. — A  brother  philosopher  has 
invited  the  world  to  admire  the  satisfied  and  facetious  exit 
of  Hume ;  but  simple  people  will  still  prefer  the  last  thoughts 
and  prospects  of  Halyburton.  It  may  be  that  some  refined 
reader  will  have  a  degree  of  involuntary  distaste  for  the 
mode  of  expression,  in  part,  of  the  following  quotations  :  (and 
it  would  be  increased  by  reading  the  whole  memoir ;)  but,  be- 
sides  that  this  was  the  language  of  Scotland,  and  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  what  sort  of  taste  do  we  detect  in  our- 
selves, except  a  taste  for  fiction,  when  we  would  have  re- 
search  of  words  and  elegance  of  style  firom  the  dying  ? 
21 


242       ON  THE  DEVOTIONAL  TEMPERS 

acquaintance  I  have  had  with  God  within  these 
two  days  has  been  better  than  ten  thousand 
times  the  pains  I  have  all  my  Ufe  been  at  about 
religion."  At  another  time — "  These  fourteen 
or  fifteen  years  I  have  been  studying  the  pro- 
mises ;  but  I  have  seen  more  of  the  book  of 
God  this  night  than  all  that  time."  To  his 
students — "  If  I  had  you  lads  all  about  me  now, 
I  would  give  you  a  lesson  of  divinity :  however, 
this  will  be  a  standing  witness  of  the  reality, 
solidity,  power  and  efficacy  of  these  truths  I 
taught  you;  for  by  the  power  of  that  grace 
revealed  in  these  truths,  here  I  lie  pained  with- 
out pain,  without  strength  and  yet  strong.  I 
think  it  would  not  be  a  lost  session  this,  though 
you  were  all  here."  On  the  sabbath,  two  days 
before  his  decease,  he  said — "  This  night  my 
skin  has  burnt,  my  heart  has  panted,  my  body 
has  been  bruised  on  the  bed  with  weakness,  and 
there  is  a  sore  upon  me  that  is  racking  my  spirit, 
and  my  heart  has  been  sometimes  like  to  fail ; 
and  yet  I  cannot  say  but  the  Lord,  after  all  this 
trouble,  holds  me  in  health  in  the  midst  of  all. 
If  the  Lord  should  give  such  support,  and  con- 
tinue me  years  in  this  case,  I  have  no  reason  to 
complain."  On  the  next  day  he  observed  to  a 
minister — "  I  think,  brother,  my  case  is  a  pretty 
fair  demonstration  of  the  immortality  of  the 


PROPER    TO    CONVALESCENCE.  243 

soul."  And  afterwards — "  Indeed  I  am  patient, 
and  yet  '  not  I,  but  the  grace  of  God  in  me.' — 
Could  I  have  believed  that  I  could  have  had  this 
pleasure  and  patience  in  this  condition  !  If  ever 
I'was  distinct  in  my  judgment  and  memory  in 
my  life,  it  was  since  He  laid  his  hand  on  me. 
Glory  to  Him !  what  shall  I  render  to  him  ? 
My  bones  are  cutting  through  my  skin,  yet  all 
my  bones  are  praising  Him."  After  taking  re- 
freshment, he  said,  "  I  listened  to  unbelief  since  I 
came  to  this  bed,  and  it  had  almost  killed  me  ; 
but  God  rebuked  it.  I  sought  the  victory  by 
prayer,  and  God  has  given  it.  He  is  the  hearer 
of  prayer.  I  have  not  much  more  to  do  with 
death.  Another  messenger  comes  for  me,  a 
cough.  Oh — I  am  kindly  dealt  with.  Heze- 
kiah  said,  I  am  cut  off  *  from  the  residue  of  my 
years ;'  but  I  will  not  say  so.  God  is  giving  me 
this  to  make  up  the  residue  of  my  years.  The 
Lord  is  even  wasting  away  my  body,  to  let  me 
see  that  my  spirit  can  live  without  it."  "  My  body 
is  wasting"  (he  remarked  soon  after)  "  like  a 
piece  of  brae  by  a  mighty  current ;  and  yet  the 
power  of  God  keeps  me  up."  "  How  have  I 
formerly  fretted  and  repined  at  the  hundredth 
part  of  the  trouble  1  have  on  my  body  now ! 
Here  you  see  a  man  dying  a  monument  of  the 
glorious  power  of  admirable  astonishing  grace !" 


244  ON    THE    DEVOTIONAL    TEMPERS 

— "  Study  the  power  of  religion.  It  is  the  power, 
and  not  a  name,  that  will  give  the  comfort  I 
find." 

This  is  but  a  small  selection  of  the  many 
striking  declarations  uttered  and  repeated  by 
him  in  various  forms  through  the  last  w^eek  of 
life  ;  and  in  his  dying  moments,  when  an  attend- 
ant said — "  I  hope  you  are  encouraging  your- 
self in  the  Lord,'*  he  "  lifted  up  his  hands,  and 
clapped  them,"  as  a  token  of  his  joy,  when  the 
power  of  speech  was  gone. 

Had  there  been  a  temporary  restoration  of 
the  frame  inhabited  by  a  spirit  such  as  this, 
could  it  be  rightly  named  convalescence  ?  Or 
should  we  better  describe  it  by  the  phrase  which 
this  dying  believer  twice  used,  when  partial 
symptoms  of  recovery  were  felt — a  being  "  ship- 
wrecked into  health  again  ?"  Is  it  not  in  truth, 
and  sensibly,  the  convalescence  of  the  spirit,  to 
be  thus  casting  off,  with  triumph,  the  death-struck 
form  that  encumbers  it,  "  renovated  day  by  day," 
while  the  "outward  man"  is  "perishing,"  and 
the  earthly  "tabernacle  dissolving"  into  dust? 
What  is  it  but  the  earnest  and  the  beginning  of 
that  immortal  vigour,  which  no  "fierce  diseases" 
will  assault,  and  which  no  hidden  decay  can 
undermine  1 


PROPER    TO    CONVALESCENCE.  245 

If — with  submission  to  the  Great  Disposer — 
a  Christian  cannot  but  devoutly  long  for  so 
blessed  a  departure,  offering  to  beloved  mourn- 
ers some  bright  disclosures  of  endless  Hfe,  (like 
morning  twilight  before  a  vernal  sunrise,)  while 
they  gaze  upon  the  image  of  ruin — then  is  it  too 
much  for  him  to  be  more  fervent  in  prayers  and 
in  labours  more  abundant,  through  the  short  term 
of  bodily  health,  or  its  uncertain  renewal,  if  by 
any  means  he  may  attain  unto  that  farewell 
blessedness ;  if  the  soul  may  be  made  percepti- 
bly convalescent,  while  the  body  sinks  in  its  last 
anguish,  and  gives  promise  (even  in  dissolution) 
of  a  glorious  and  unfading  health,  "  when  Christ 
who  is  our  life  shall  appear  ?" 
21* 


246  ANNIVERSARIE3, 


XXVI. 

ON  ANNIVERSARIES,  AS  PECULIARLY  PROMPTINO 
US  TO  SERIOUS  DEVOTION. 

In  the  earliest  stages  of  life  we  can  have  but 
few  private  anniversaries.  The  year  is  com- 
paratively unmarked  by  memory,  and  all  its 
days  are  given  to  hope.  Even  the  birth-day, 
which  is  early  distinguished  by  parental  notice, 
and  the  new-year's  day,  which  general  feeling 
or  habit  observes,  are  rather  viewed  in  con- 
nexion with  the  future  than  the  past.  But  the 
memorable  days  which  succeeding  years  will 
recal,  must  multiply  for  each  of  us  as  years 
revolve.  There  arises  gradually  a  calendar  of 
our  individual  history:  and  its  anniversaries  are 
far  more  affecting  to  ourselves,  than  most  of 
those  which  the  almanac  presents. 

The  period  of  our  attaining  some  desired 
success ;  of  our  entrance  on  some  important 
employment;  of  our  embarking  for  some  dis- 
tant enterprise,  or  returning  from  it  in  safety ; 
of  our  solemnly  assuming  new  duties ;  of  an 
endearing  connexion  commenced  ;  of  other  fond 
relations  ensuing ;  of  some  signal  preservations, 


ANrflVEBSARIES.  247 

and  of  some  poignant  griefs,  among  which  must 
be  the  successive  dissolution  of  the  tenderes* 
ties  of  hfe ; — all  these,  in  some  minds,  already 
crowd  the  record ;  and  some  of  the  last  must, 
in  almost  every  mind,  continue  to  augment  it^ 
till  our  mortal  records  shall  be  closed. 

Perhaps  there  are  those  so  awake  both  to 
grateful  and  to  pensive  recollections,  that  this 
unwritten  register,  amidst  all  the  scenes  of 
passing  months,  rarely  fails  to  be  reviewed;  so 
tliat  few  such  anniversaries  escape,  without  a 
degree  of  lively  remembrance  and  appropriate 
feeling.  To  some  others,  a  calendar  thus  in- 
scribed, (still  noting  the  additional  days  which 
are  signalized  as  life  goes  on,)  might  be  more 
profitable  than  many  a  treatise.  It  would  be 
tliC  briefest  and  most  impressive  sort  of  diary ; 
and  not  omitting  the  seasons  which  nature  or 
Christianity  celebrates,  it  would  add  a  still  in- 
creasing number,  which  must  awaken,  as  power- 
fully, the  serious  thoughts  and  emotions  of  the 
individual.  These  em(>tions  would  indeed  be 
dissimilar  in  kind  and  in  degree;  but  all  anni- 
versaries have  this  one  very  obvious  and  im- 
portant office  in  common — iHat  they  most  stri- 
kingly measure  out  and  proclaim  the  lapse  of 
time.  It  is  true,  that  waning  moons,  and  re- 
turning sabbaths,  and  every  setting  sun,  and 


248  ANNIVERSARIES. 

every  passing  hour,  much  oftener  speak  the 
same  monitory  language ;  but  none  of  them 
with  so  distinct  and  pov\^erful  a  voice.  Anniver- 
saries of  events  long  past,  which  have  therefore 
often  recurred,  already  remind  me  how  very 
large  a  portion  of  my  mortal  course  is  run. 
They  stand  like  pyramids  on  the  great  plain  of 
time,  remote,  yet  still  distinct,  and  show  us  how 
far  we  have  imperceptibly  journeyed.  But  each, 
even  at  its  first  occurrence,  marks  and  an- 
nounces that  a  year  of  life  is  fled ;  that  the  ma- 
terial world  on  which  I  dwell,  (vast  in  my  view, 
but  minute  in  the  sight  of  Him  who  guides  un- 
numbered worlds  through  the  abyss  of  space,) 
has  fulfilled  one  more  of  its  mighty  revolutions. 
A  thousand  times  a  thousand  leagues  are  but  a 
small  portion  of  its  annual  flight.  And  in  the 
same  swift  period,  this  ever-moving  spiritual 
world  within,  (little  in  its  attainments  while 
linked  with  feebleness  and  death,  but  vast  in  the 
view  of  Him  who  comprehends  its  eternal  pros- 
pects,) has  run  through  its  myriads  of  successive 
thoughts  and  wishes,  hopes  and  fears.  But  its 
circuits,  if  they  may  be  called  such,  are  not 
like  those  of  the  globe  on  which  I  tread.  The 
soul  of  man,  as  its  hasty  years  revolve,  should 
be  compared  rather  to  a  world  which,  like  the 
comets  of  our  system,  is  rapidly  receding  from, 


ANNIVERSARIES.  240 

or  approximating  to,  the  source  of  life  and  light. 
Either  with  each  day  and  year  the  voluntary 
distance  is  widened,  till  it  awfully  plunges  in  the 
*•  hlackness  of  darkness  for  ever," — or  else  the 
transforming  attraction  strengthens,  and  with 
each  circuit  of  time  the  spirit  draws  nearer  to 
the  Sun  and  Centre  of  all  worlds ;  soon  to  be 
immersed  in  that  nearest  brightness,  where  all 
its  waste  places  shall  blossom  and  bear  fruit 
unto  perfection,  through  an  endless  summer. 
How  stupendous,  how  immeasurable  the  alter- 
native ! 

Every  greater  division  of  time,  such  as  these 
anniversary  seasons  indicate,  should  lead  me, 
not  only  to  meditate  on  my  own  fleeting  hfe, 
but  to  "  consider  the  years  of  many  genera- 
tions ;"  to  mark  with  how  sure  and  ceaseless  a 
progression  the  secrets  of  eternity  hasten  to 
their  development.  Like  the  great  movements 
of  visible  nature,  like  the  travelhng  of  sunbeams, 
and  the  courses  of  the  stars,  the  destined  course 
of  ages  is  to  us  noiseless  and  insensible ;  but  it 
has  a  silent  grandeur,  an  equable,  irrepressible 
celerity,  which  is  full  of  awe. 

"Yet  a  httle  while,"  exclaimed  an  apostle, 
glancing  through  all  the  drama  to  its  glorious 
consummation — "  yet  a  little  while,  and  He  that 


250  ANNIVERSARIES. 

shall  come  will  come,  and  will  not  tarry !" 
"  Behold,  I  come  quickly,"  says  the  Lord  and 
Inspirer  of  apostles,  "  and  my  reward  is  with 
me,  to  give  to  every  man  according  as  his  work 
shall  be."  That  great  crisis  which  is  yet  future, 
must  one  day  be  for  ever  past.  "  At  midnight 
there  was  a  cry  made,  Behold,  the  bridegroom 
cometh,  go  ye  out  to  meet  him !"  Overwhelm- 
ing summons  !  Why  does  not  the  very  fore- 
thought startle  every  drowsy  energy  of  my  im- 
mortal spirit  ?  Does  it  not  appeal  to  me  by  all 
that  is  solemn  and  all  that  is  transporting? 
Does  it  not  hurry  me,  as  with  an  angel's  hand, 
throusjh  the  brief  circuits  of  this  dreaminsj  mor- 
tality,  and  bear  me,  as  on  an  angel's  wing,  up 
into  the  regions  where  none  shall  slumber  ? 

But  the  mind  soon  reverts  to  that  great  per- 
sonal change  which  is  most  surely  near;  and 
the  impression  of  which  is  much  stronger,  be- 
cause it  is  much  more  definite.  "  When  a  few 
years  are  come,"  (said  the  patriarch,  amidst  his 
multiplied  calamities,)  "  then  shall  I  go  the  way 
whence  I  shall  not  return !"  He  must  often 
have  made  the  same  reflection  afterwards,  and, 
perhaps,  with  equal  sensibiHty,  in  the  midst  of 
his  restored  enjoyments. 

Every  anniversary  suggests  to  the  thoughtful 


ANNIVERSARIES.  251 

mind  that  reflection,  and  neither  its  antiquity 
nor  its  simpHcity  can  impair  its  force.  What 
distinction,  what  circumstance,  so  weighty,  so 
affecting  as  this ? — "I  shall  not  return!" — When, 
towards  the  close  of  life,  a  voyage  is  undertaken 
to  another  hemisphere,  to  a  shore  whence  the 
adventurer  never  expects  to  revisit  the  land  of 
his  fathers,  if  he  be  of  a  reflective  and  tender 
spirit,  what  preparations  does  not  this  voyage 
demand  ;  what  objects  does  it  not  endear ;  what 
emotion  does  it  not  awaken ! — But  "  when  a 
few  years  are  come,"  (may  every  Christian 
say,)  when  a  few  more  anniversaries  have 
glided  by — what  a  voyage  is  in  prospect  for 
me  ! — that  vast  and  unknown  voyage,  whence, 
"  till  the  times  of  the  restitution  of  all  things" — 
I  shall  not  return  ! — not  return  to  the  seasons  of 
sacred  retirement,  or  social  devotion,  those 
golden  hours  to  fit  me  for  the  skies;  not  re- 
turn to  that  abode  where  alone  I  can  imitate 
my  descended  Lord  in  doing  and  in  suffering, 
where  he  found  labours  enough  to  occupy  an 
untiring  zeal,  and  to  engage,  till  the  last  moment 
of  his  sojourn,  a  celestial  benevolence.  He  left 
a  world  replete  with  sorrows,  (though,  for  his 
true  disciples,  he  bore  away  their  sting,)  and  I 
soon  must  leave  it  also.     Then  I  cannot  return  ! 


252  ANNIVERSARIES. 

— no  more  opportunity  will  remain  to  me  to 
wipe  away  one  tear  of  affliction — to  lead  back 
one  wanderer  from  the  verge  of  ruin — to  guide 
and  help  and  comfort  those  who  are  most  dear 
— to  soften  the  adversities  of  this  liie,  or  invite 
to  the  joys  of  another ! 

And  shall  I  pass  these  quickly-circling  years 
as  if  there  were  nothing  to  be  done,  to  be  sub- 
dued, to  be  acquired,  to  be  imparted,  before  I 
launch  my  bark  on  its  voyage  to  that  "  undis- 
covered country?" 

If  the  anniversaries  which  are  calculated  to 
afTect  us  most  deeply,  should  call  forth  senti- 
ments at  all  resembling  these,  surely  they  should 
also  impel  us  to  seek,  with  unwonted  earnest- 
ness, the  communication  of  heavenly  strength, 
that  we  ma}^  be  enabled  to  pursue  a  course  iii 
some  measure  accordant  with  such  feelings. 

Contemplating  thus  the  funeral  procession  of 
centuries,  the  hand's-breadth  of  our  own  earth- 
ly career,  and  the  vast  gulf  of  duration  beyond, 
in  which  all  finite  periods  are  aUke  absorbed 
and  lost,  whither  shall  we  look  but  to  Him  that 
enfolds  the  universe  in  his  parental  embrace,  and 
comprehends,  by  his  infinite  Being,  that  eternity 
tow^ards  which  we  tend  ? 

If  we  solemnly  desire  to  improve  and  conse- 


WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN.  253 

crate  to  God  the  remnant  of  these  fugitive  years 
and  days,  whither  shall  we  resort  for  the  spirit 
of  fortitude  and  wisdom  and  fidehty,  but  to  Him 
that  worketh  in  us  "to  will  and  to  do  of  his 
good  pleasure ;"  even  "  according  to  the  work- 
ing of  his  mighty  power  ?" 


XXVII. 

ON  THE  CAPACITIES  FOR  WORSIUP  IN  HEAVEN. 

The  frail  constitution  of  our  mortal  nature 
sets  narrow  Hmits  to  spiritual  knowledge  and 
delight.  The  organization  by  which  the  soul 
now  acts,  ma}^  be  compared  to  that  little  modern 
instrument  of  music,  whose  vibrations  are  pro- 
duced on  glass.  A  touch,  one  degree  too  forci- 
ble, would  break  the  material  and  annihilate  the 
melody.  If  the  benignant  influence  of  the  natu* 
ral  sun-beams  could  be  made  so  destructive  by 
the  mirrors  of  Archimedes,  how  much  more 
might  a  concentration  of  spiritual  glory,  though 
22 


254  WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN. 

conveying  the  naost  sublime  and  joyful  impres- 
sions, disarrange  and  subvert  our  present  mode 
of  being ! 

In  the  sublimest  revelations  made  to  prophets 
— (as  to  Moses,  when  he  beheld  from  the  cleft 
of  the  rock  the  retiring  glory  of  Jehovah ;  to 
Ezekiel,  when  he  looked  on  the  mystic  wheels, 
the  flashing  cherubim,  the  sapphire  throne,  and 
the  likeness  of  the  glory  of  the  Lord ;  or  to  the 
apostles  Paul  and  John,  in  their  heavenly  vi- 
sions;)— we  must  suppose,  either,  (as  is  some- 
times intimated,)  that  the  body  was  miraculous- 
ly sustained,  or,  (as  St.  Paul  seems  to  conjecture,) 
that  the  connexion  of  the  body  and  mind  was 
miraculously  suspended. 

The  eminently  pious  and  learned  John  Howe, 
a  man  of  sound,  calm  and  capacious  mind,  left 
these  words  written  in  Latin  on  a  blank  page  of 
his  Bible : — 

"  December  26,  1689.  This  very  morning  I 
awoke,  for  the  first  time,  from  the  following 
most  delightful  dream.  An  amazing  emanation 
of  celestial  rays  from  the  supreme  seat  of  the 
divine  Majesty,  seemed  infused  into  my  open 
and  expanded  breast.  Often  since  that  memo- 
rable day,  I  have  recalled,  with  a  grateful 
mind,  that  signal  pledge  of  the  divine  favour, 


WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN.  255 

and  with  reiterated  pleasure  have  tasted  of  its 
sweetness.  But  what  I  experienced  of  the  same 
kind,  by  the  admirable  bounty  of  my  God,  and 
the  transporting  influence  of  the  Sacred  Spirit, 
on  October  22,  1704,  entirely  exceeds  all  my 
resources  of  expression." 

It  is  not  distinctly  stated  in  this  very  interest- 
ing memorial,  whether,  on  the  second  occasion, 
as  on  the  first,  these  beatific  communications 
were  received  during  sleep,  but  it  seems  implied; 
and  we  may  well  believe  that  this  partial  sus- 
pension of  the  animal  functions  was  necessary 
to  life,  or  at  least  to  health,  under  such  emotions 
unless  a  counteracting  miracle  were  wrought. 
But  when,  from  the  dissoluble  elements  of  our 
present  frame,  there  shall  be  educed,  by  divine 
power,  a  "  spiritual  body,"  we  can  conceive 
that  it  will  be  completely  adapted  to  receive  the 
full  intenseness  of  those  impressions  which  are 
needful  to  perfect  felicity. 

A  poet  who  has  attempted  to  describe  that 
awful  period,  when  "  many  bodies  of  the  saints, 
which  slept,  arose,"  represents  their  spirits,  in 
the  luminous  vehicle  of  the  intermediate  state, 
descending,  by  divine  command,  to  contemplate 
their  own  sepulchres.  Rachel,  the  mother  of 
patriarchs,  attended  by  her  guardian  angel,  ap- 
proaches her  lonely  grave : — 


256  WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN. 

"  And  as  she  spake,  there  stream'd  from  forth  the  tomb 

A  sofl-ascending  vapour,  like  the  dew 

That  moistens  roses,  or  the  silvery  mist 

Around  a  vernal  bower.     Iler  spirit's  gleam 

Brighten'd  the  vapour,  as  a  settmg  sun 

Tinges  the  dewy  west.     She  marks  it  wave 

And  soar  and  suik  and  fluctuate  gently  still 

Near  her,  and  yet  more  near ;  and  venerates 

Creation's  changeful  mysteries,  profound 

In  grandeur,  in  minuteness  as  profound ; 

Nor  knows  tlie  fond  affinity,  nor  deems 

How  soon  with  that  soft-floating  ambient  veil 

Thy  voice,  Almighty  Saviour,  shall  involve 

Her  own  enraptur'd  being.     Yet  she  bends 

To  watcli  its  beauty  with  a  strange  delight, 

While  the  companion-seraph  eyes  the  scene 

Elate. 

Then  spake  the  all-transforming  voice : 
She  sank  ; — she  seemed  to  melt  in  tears  away ; 
Delicious  tears ;  as  if  her  being  stole 
Through  some  cool  glade,  and  thenee  emerged  in  light. 
Amidst  the  fragrance  of  a  flowery  shore. 
— She  wakes  ;  she  sees  ;  she  feels  herself  enshrined 
In  a  new  form,  bright,  indestructible  ; 
And  with  intcnser  blessedness  adores 
Him  that  hath  summon'd  this  access  of  joy 
From  the  sepulchral  shade  !" 

The  achievements  of  modern  chemistry  faci- 
litate and  elevate  our  idea  of  that  splendid 
change  which  may  pass  on  the  meanest  relics  of 
mortality.  We  had  seen,  it  is  granted,  more 
wondrous  transformations  in  nature;  so  early 


WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN.  257 

indeed,  and  so  often,  that  we  forgot  to  consider 
and  adnaire  them.  We  knew  that  He,  by  whom 
"  all  things  were  made,"  must  have  an  energy 
"  whereby  he  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  unto 
himself;"  but  when  a  human  artificer,  who  con- 
fessedly knows  nothing  of  the  substance  of  that 
matter  on  which  he  operates,  or  of  that  mind 
by  which  he  investigates  its  properties,  obtains 
by  sure  processes,  a  vital  fluid  from  a  coarse 
mineral;  an  inflammable  air  from  water:  and 
shining  metals  from  the  ashes  of  wood,  or  of 
seaweeds ;  philosophy  thus  seems,  by  her  own 
advances,  to  cast  more  and  more  of  practical 
scorn  on  her  own  incredulous  question,  "  How 
are  the  dead  raised  up,  and  with  what  body  do 
they  come  ?" 

Shall  a  frail  and  puny  inquisitor  of  nature, 
whose  hand  and  head  must  soon  return  to  dust, 
effect  changes  thus  surprising ;  and  He  that  cre- 
ated the  operative  hand,  the  inquisitive  eye,  the 
inventive  mind,  shall  He  not  show  us  "  greater 
works  than  these,  that  we  may  marvel  ?"  Mea- 
sure the  probable  excellence  of  the  work  by  the 
infinite  superiority  of  the  Agent,  and  then  con- 
ceive how  magnificently  He  is  likely  to  verify 
the  prophetic  words — "  It  is  sown  in  dishonour, 
it  is  raised  in  glory ;  it  is  sown  in  weakness,  it 
is  raised  in  power. 
22* 


258  woEsniP  in  heavex. 

Those  who  have  nad  the  most  distressing 
experience  of  the  effects  of  corporal  infirmity 
on  the  rnind,  will  estimate  most  highly  the  value 
of  such  a  glorious  change.  The  delight  of  pos- 
sessing a  frame  which  may  be  as  unsusceptible 
of  weariness  or  debility,  as  the  tide  in  its  flowing, 
or  the  moon  in  her  orbit ;  able  to  receive  the 
amplest  communications  of  light  and  love,  ade- 
quate to  the  noblest  exercises  of  the  intellect 
and  the  affections,  and  endlessly  invigorated  by 
their  endless  expansion. 

And  it  would  seem,  that  this  very  change, 
which  will  impart  to  the  compound  being  of  the 
risen  saints,  a  physical  capacity  for  the  highest 
spiritual  enjoyment,  may  be  the  chief  means  of 
obviating  that  moral  danger,  which,  in  their 
present  condition  would  arise  from  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  unvarying  delight  in  the  service 
of  God. 

The  felicity  to  which  that  change  will  exalt 
•its  subjects,  must  essentially  and  supremely  con- 
sist in  what  has  been  called  the  "beatific  vision;" 
or  the  vivid  consciousness  of  a  most  intimate 
and  gracious  presence  of  the  Deity.  And  this, 
while  it  will  necessarily  be  an  unfailing  spring 
of  the  highest  blessedness,  must  also  be  the  ex- 
haustless  source  of  moral  perfection.  It  will  be 
so  by  a  directly  communicative  and  assimila- 


WOESIIIP    IN    HEAVEN.  259 

ting  energy ; — "  We  shall  be  like  him,"  (says 
an  apostle,)  "  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is." — 
*•  I  shall  behold  thy  face  in  righteousness;"  (says 
a  prophet,)  "  I  shall  be  satisfied,  when  I  awake, 
with  thy  likeness." 

But,  besides  this,  we  cannot  doubt  that  it  will 
be  so  indirectly,  b}^  precluding  all  self-importance 
in  the  possession  of  that  glorious  likeness  and  all 
pride  in  the  enjoyment  and  perpetuity  of  the 
richest  donation  that  can  be  made  to  a  creature. 

If  we  supposed  the  most  devoted  and  humble 
of  Christians  to  attain,  in  the  present  life,  an 
uniform  elevation  of  delight  in  worship,  which 
approached  to  that  of  an  angel — yet  not  possess- 
ing, together  with  it,  that  vision  of  the  Deity 
w^hich  the  mortal  nature  could  not,  without  a 
miracle,  endure ;  it  is  dilUcult  to  conceive  that 
such  a  state  of  mind  could  subsist,  without 
generating  a  subtle  pride  and  self-idolatry.  A 
miraculous  change  in  the  whole  constitution  of 
the  soul  would  be  as  needful  to  prevent  this 
effect,  as  it  would  be  in  that  of  the  body  to 
capacitate  it  for  the  vision  which  it  could  not 
naturally  support.  Accordingly,  we  find  that 
those  who  have  been  indulged  in  this  life  with 
the  most  rapturous  devotional  pleasures,  have 
had  frequent  fluctuations  and  declensions  of  feel- 
ing ;  intended,  as  it  appears,  to  recall  the  sense 


260  WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN. 

of  entire  dependence,  and  correct  that  fallacious 
self-sufficiency  which  was  secretly  nourished 
within  them.  But  in  that  state  of  perfection, 
where  *'  the  pure  in  heart  shall  see  God,"  no 
such  fluctuation  can  be  supposed  needful.  Doubt- 
less, indeed,  His  efficacious  grace  will  be,  in 
heaven  as  on  earth,  the  primary  cause  of  holi- 
ness and  happiness,  and  of  their  eternal  stability. 
Both  to  glorified  saints,  and  to  the  "elect  angels," 
this  must  be  ever  and  alike  essential.  But  (the 
efficient  cause  being  pre-supposed,)  nothing  can 
be  conceived  so  powerful,  instrumentally,  to  ex- 
clude, for  ever,  that  blind  and  petty  pride  of 
which  even  the  subjects  of  grace  are  conscious 
on  earth,  as  the  perpetual  and  beatific  vision  of 
the  Majesty  of  heaven. 

Imagine  a  holy  being,  endowed  with  the 
loftiest  and  most  blissful  attainments  of  which  a 
created  spirit  is  capable,  but  consciously  indebt- 
ed for  their  fulness  and  perpetuation  to  the  vision 
of  God.  Beholding,  continually  and  immediate- 
ly. Him  who  is  the  sole  fountain  of  these  immor- 
tal honours,  will  it  be  possible  to  imagine  such  a 
being  liable  to  the  folly  and  sin  of  self-exalta- 
tion'(  And  if  it  cannot  be  conceived  of  an 
angel,  still  less  can  it  be  conceived  of  a  redeem- 
ed sinner. 

Were  a  good  man  of  ardent  feelings,  to  be 


WORSIIir    IN    HEAVEN.  261 

introduced  to  that  one  of  all  his  fellow-men,  who 
was  known  to  possess  at  once  the  most  sublime 
wisdom,  and  the  most  heroic  beneficence,  ho 
would  surely  forget  self,  for  the  moment,  in  hia 
overflowing  admiration.  But,  if  this  first  of 
mortals  were  also  his  deliverer  from  prison  and 
from  death,  a  torrent  of  gratitude  would  yet 
more  efl^^ectually  extinguish  all  the  sparks  of 
pride.  So,  when  a  ransomed  saint  shall  be  for 
ever  with  his  Lord,  and  shall  behold  that  Sa- 
viour who  is  the  "  brightness  of  the  Father's 
glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person,"  but 
who  "  humbled  himself,"  becoming  "  obedient 
unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross,"  that 
he  mi^ht  "  obtain  eternal  redemption"  for  him 
— will  there  be  space  on  the  altar  of  his  heart 
for  one  particle  of  strange  and  earthly  fire  ? 
Will  not  the  radiance  of  that  divine  love  make 
it  flame  as  a  whole  and  pure  offering? 

Surely,  the  delight  of  the  redeemed  in  the 
adoration  of  their  Redeemer,  flowing  from  the 
presence  of  its  transcendent  object,  will  be 
guarded,  if  we  may  speak  so,  by  its  own  ex- 
cess :  kept  pure  and  unalloyed  by  its  own 
redundance.  There  is  no  reason,  therefore,  to 
apprehend,  that  the  perfection  and  the  joy  of 
celestial  worship  will  need,  either  on  a  physical 
or  moral  account,  intermission  or  abatement 


262  WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN. 

We  can  indeed  conceive,  that,  even  in  the 
heavenly  state,  happiness  may  be  on  the  whole 
enhanced  by  a  variation  in  its  degrees;  that  the 
intervention  of  that  "  peace  of  God  which  pass- 
eth  all  understanding,"  as  a  pause  and  quiescence 
from  the  "  fulness  of  joy,"  may  augment  the 
whole  sum  of  felicity.  Yet  there  is  no  proof 
of  this ;  and  the  idea  takes  its  rise  from  a  con- 
tracted mortal  experience. 

Our  impressions  of  admiration  and  delight 
are,  in  the  present  state,  weakened  by  continu- 
ance or  repetition.  He  who  has  long  and  daily 
looked  on  the  Alps,  or  the  ocean,  is  far  less 
affected  wdth  these  sentiments  than  he  who  con- 
templates either  for  the  first  time.  But  this 
well-known  law  belongs,  perhaps,  to  our  fallen 
and  dying  nature  only.  It  may  be  one  of  the 
penalties  inwrought  in  the  fabric  of  such  a  na- 
ture, that  its  pleasing  impressions  should  thus 
work  their  ov/n  decay.  The  connexion  between 
novelty  and  enjoyment  may  be  expressly  insti- 
tuted for  our  earthly  condition,  in  order  to 
detach  us  from  objects  which  we  soon  must 
quit,  and  which,  themselves,  "  shall  wax  old 
like  a  garm.ent,  and,  as  a  vesture,  shall  be 
changed."  We  have  no  ground  however  to 
conclude  this  connexion  necessary,  or  pern^a- 
ncnt.     We  are  sure  it  can  have  no  place  in  the 


WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEX.  263 

omniscient  and  infinite  blessedness  of  Ilim  wfio 
is  from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  Therefore, 
by  a  perpetual  accession  of  admiring  joy,  arising 
from  the  contemplation  of  the  same  perfect  attri- 
butes and  glorious  works,  created  minds  would 
most  approximate  to  that  kind  of  felicity  which 
is  proper  to  the  "  blessed  God." 

Possibly,  an  angel,  sent  for  the  first  time  on  a 
ministry  of  love  to  our  earth,  may  view  the 
Alps  illuminated  by  the  setting  sun,  with  im- 
pressions (as  to  their  rank  in  the  scale  of  the 
divine  works)  like  ours  at  first  viewing  a  dis- 
play of  rich  minerals  and  brilliant  gems ; — yet 
he  has  one  inexhaustible  ever-growing  advant- 
age over  mortal  observers,  if  by  each  succes- 
sive view  his  admiration  and  pleasure  be,  not 
enfeebled,  but  enlivened.  We  have  only  to 
suppose  this  very  probable  and  delightful  inver- 
sion of  present  experience,  in  a  higher  mode  of 
being,  in  order  to  anticipate  enjoyment  that  shall 
not  be  in  any  way  dependent  on  intermission  or 
change,  and  to  discover  a  new  and  constantly 
augmenting  treasure  in  the  gift  of  immortality. 

And  besides  these  considerations,  there  is 
every  reason  to  expect  that,  in  a  future  state  of 
happiness,  the  blissful  exercise  of  adoration  will 
be  concurrent  v/ith  those  active  services,  and 
those  subordinate  enjoyments,  which  may  oc- 


264  WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN. 

cijpy,  in  boundless  diversity  and  succession, 
"  the  whole  family  in  heaven." 

A  divine  of  great  note,*  and  far  removed 
from  that  class  whose  statements  are  most 
commonly  regarded  as  extravagant,  has  repre- 
sented a  sort  of  perpetual  adoration  as  possible 
even  in  the  present  life.  "  Let  no  man  think  it 
is  too  much  to  require  at  the  hands  of  men,  at 
one  and  the  self-same  instant,  both  to  attend 
their  vocation  and  their  prayer.  For  the  mind 
of  man  is  a  very  agile  and  nimble  substance ; 
and  it  is  a  wonderful  thing  to  see  how  many 
things  it  will,  at  one  moment,  apply  itself  unto 
without  any  confusion  or  lot  liOok  but  upon 
the  musician,  while  he  is  in  his  practice,  he 
tunes  his  voice,  fingers  his  instrument,  reads  his 
ditty,  makes  the  note,  observes  the  time;  all 
these  things  simul  et  semel,  (at  one  and  the  same 
instant,)  without  any  distraction  or  impediment ; 
thus  should  men  do  in  case  of  devotion,  and  in 
the  common  acts  of  our  vocation  let  prayer 
bear  a  part." 

And  the  celebrated  Barrow  has  said  nearly 
the  same : — "  As  bodily  respiration,  without 
intermission  or  impediment,  doth  c(5ncur  with 
all  our  actions,  so  may  that  breathing  of  soul, 

*  Hales,  of  Eton. 


WORSHIP   IN   HEAVEN.  265 

which  preserveth  our  spiritual  life,  and  venti- 
lateth  that  holy  fiame  within  us,  well  conspire 
with  all  other  occupations." 

The  remarks  of  both  these  authors  forcibly 
and  instructively  show,  how  practicable  and 
important  it  is  to  habituate  ourselves  to  inter- 
pose mental  devotion,  in  the  frequent  intervals 
and  brief  vacuities  of  other  engagements.  Yet 
it  is  plain  they  were  not  meant  to  be  understood 
strictly,  either  in  a  philosophical  or  practical 
sense ;  because  many  occupations  claim,  while 
we  are  pursuing  them,  the  whole  and  fixed 
attention  of  the  mind.  And  from  this  fact,  that 
the  occupations  in  which  the  intellect  is  most 
steadfastly  and  unremittingly  engaged,  can 
least  admit  such  interposed  prayer,  we  may 
draw  an  inference,  humbling  to  the  philosopher 
and  encouraging  to  the  peasant ;  namely,  that 
the  simple  ordinary  labours  of  mankind,  in 
which  the  body,  and  not  the  mind,  is  chiefly 
concerned,  are  peculiarly  favourable  to  that 
kind  of  devotion  which  is  least  artificial,  least 
intermitted,  and  therefore  most  heavenly.  The 
comparisons  which  those  writers  have  used  are 
most  correctly  adapted  to  illustrate  that  capa- 
city of  uninterrupted  worship,  which  we  expect 
will  characterise  a  future  state  of  perfection. 
23 


266  WORSHIP   IN   HEAVEN. 

Devotion  in  heaven  may  neither  impede,  nor 
be  impeded  by,  any  mode  of  mental  activity  ; 
but  may  consist  with  all,  be  excited  by  all,  be 
essential  to  all.  The  highest  employments  of 
the  mind  may  offer  no  more  "  distraction  or 
impediment"  to  a  blissful  adoration,  than  the 
involuntary  functions  of  the  body  now  present 
to  the  exercise  of  thought.  And  this  idea  dis- 
arms the  sarcasm  of  infidels  on  the  perpetual 
worship  of  heaven,  founded  on  their  own  false 
pretence,  that  it  involves  a  cessation  of  vigorous 
action  and  of  intellectual  progress.  Is  the  play 
of  the  fountain  obstructed  by  the  iris  that  blends 
with  and  encircles  it?  Must  the  Hving  foun- 
tains of  mind  spring  up  with  a  less  majestic 
strength,  or  in  forms  and  combinations  of  less 
variety  and  grandeur,  because  each  drop  shall 
give  forth  a  ray,  brighter  and  more  ethereal 
than  itself,  to  the  eternal  arch  of  praise  ? 

Such  are  some  of  the  thoughts  of  futurity 
w^hich  revelation  invites  the  true  worshipper  to 
indulge ;  or,  rather,  it  intimates  prospects  far 
above  his  powers  of  present  conception ;  since 
even  a  distinguished  apostle  could  say — "  II 
doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be."  The 
first  impression  awakened  by  such  prospects,  in 
a  mind  deeply  sensible  to  its  frailty  and  demerit, 


WORSHIP    IN    HEAVEN.  267 

is — Can  such  an  exaltation  be  designed  for  me  ? 
And  the  only  substantial  answer  which  I  have 
discovered,  is  found  in  the  memorable  question 
of  St.  Paul ; — "  He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son, 
but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he 
not,  with  him,  also,  freely  give  us  all  things'?" 
That  truth,  believed  and  realised,  must  silence 
all  feelings  which  would  Hmit  the  free  and  un- 
measured munificence  of  our  Father  who  is  in 
heaven. 

What,  then,  is  the  great  practical  impression 
to  be  sought  from  prospects  like  these,  espe- 
cially as  it  regards  our  present  exercises  of  de- 
votion 1  They  should  surely  abound  in  grateful, 
ardent  hope,  joyfully  anticipating  "the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed."  But  if,  through  tempta- 
tions, or  infirmities,  our  worship  be  still,  in  these 
happiest  qualities,  defective,  at  least,  let  its  sin- 
cerity be  unquestionable,  as  the  great  pre-requi- 
site  to  its  becoming  blissful  and  perfect  hereaf- 
ter. Let  it  be  solemnly  remembered,  that  though 
we  cannot  now  emulate  the  adoration  of  the 
heavenly  world,  yet  "  the  hour  now  is,  when 
the  true  worshippers  shall  worship  the  Father 
in  spirit  and  in  truth ;"  that  is,  with  the  unre- 
served, undissembled  homage  of  the  soul.  Ex- 
cept there  be  in  the  heart  a  germ  of  real  piety 


268  WORSHIP   IN   HEAVEN. 

— except  it  be,  though  weak  and  imperfect,  yet 
genuine  and  incorrupt,  rooted  and  growing,  it 
were  vain  to  hope  that  even  the  climate  of  hea- 
ven could  expand  that  which  is  lifeless,  or  invest 
that  which  has  no  principle  of  growth,  with 
beauty  and  fragrance. 


THE  END. 


